


Stargazing

by Michi27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Sam, Bottom Sam Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is good with his tongue, Guardian Angels, Hamsters, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Sabriel - Freeform, Smut, They can't stop kissing, Top Gabriel (Supernatural), Top Gabriel/Bottom Sam Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, Vet!Sam, brief attempted rape NOT BETWEEN SAM AND GABRIEL, i love them, my, non-con drugging, they fuck like bunnies, they're very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/pseuds/Michi27
Summary: His angel squeezed him tight and then tugged him to his feet and pulled him right in again. Gold wings flared around them both, cocooning Sam in their spread and nearly completely blocking out the light of the sun. His angel's arms wrapped around him, secure and protective and safe. Even as they shook. A trembling that started in his shoulders and translated to his fingertips, pressed into Sam's back.His face was buried in Sam's neck, golden hair like a halo spilling over his head. Sam blinked, dizzy, feeling unsteady still, and so content to take comfort, togivecomfort. He nestled into that hair, holding the angel to him. Breathing in his scent. Fresh air and soft musk and sweetness--sugar and strawberry."You're okay," his angel whispered. But he held him a little closer and the cocoon of his wings drew in a little tighter. "You're okay," he repeated.________________________________Sam always knew there was an angel watching over him. There was this...connectionbetween them he's never really understood, but he cares about him... so much. And he thinks... he's pretty sure his angel feels the same way. He just wishes it wasn't so complicated.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoudenSwainfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/gifts).



> Though this story took on an entire life of its own, it was entirely created for [LoudenSwainfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/pseuds/LoudenSwainfangirl/works) whom I love to the stars and beyond. Happy birthday, sis <3<3<3 You are a gift to me every single day.  
> As for these two, they made me fall in love with them, and I hope they do the same so you <3
> 
>  
> 
> Not only was this fic beta'd by the amazing [Roobear68](http://roobear68.tumblr.com/), but she also made the beautiful artboard that goes with it!  
> I had to run through and edit it one more time, so any further mistakes are mine xD You're awesome, Roo <3
> 
>  
> 
> Now then, thank you, reader, for starting this fic with me. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it ^.^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this work took a life of it's own and took far longer than I intended, it was entirely created for my dear friend [LoudenSwainfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/pseuds/LoudenSwainfangirl/works), whom I love to the stars and beyond <3<3<3 Happy birthday, sis <3 They made me fall in love with them, I hope they do the same for you c:
> 
>  
> 
> Now, not only was this fic beta'd by the awesome [@Roobear68](https://tmblr.co/mX-IMyiG-LZBfQmFT3sCfUQ), but she created the beautiful artboard too! I had to run through and edit this one more time, so any further mistakes are mine xD Roo, you're awesome.

 

The small bits of chopped tomato, cheese, and sliced carrots tumble over each other with the motion of Sam's fork while the hard ridge of his chin digs into his palm. His eyes are glued to the salad, but they hardly see the rumpled romaine getting twisted around and around and around or the crouton darkening as is slides through the balsamic.

His mind is… somewhere else. The car accident. Well, not really the car accident. Yes, it had been terrifying, but he's okay and it's over. What his mind can't let go of is the man... the angel... who pulled him from the wreckage. Saved his life... again.

Even here so many days later, he feels the warmth of arms wrapped around him, strong and so secure. It was weird to say, right after his car flipped upside down, but Sam had never in his life felt safer. Even as the angel's arms shook. A trembling that started in his shoulders and translated to his fingertips, pressed hard and tight in Sam's back. A face buried in his neck. And soft, impossibly soft, warmth cocooning him.

His wings almost blocking out the glare of the sun.

Sam's nose twitches at the scent of green grass and fresh air--and sweetness--that he still remembers so well. Sugar and artificial strawberry adding a twist of man-made to an otherwise all natural, musky, delicious scent.

Sam is pretty sure it was coming from his warm, nervous breaths. The faint flavor of it still mingles with his taste buds. Pressed into Sam's mouth from his lips, his tongue.

Inexplicably in the over-warm diner, a shiver works its way through Sam's body. He welcomes the darkness that comes when he shuts his eyes, the cheap metal fork still held, but frozen between his fingers.

It was him. He had saved him again. He had held him. He had--

" _You're okay,_ " he'd whispered, but arms squeezed a little tighter and the cocoon closed in a little closer, and Sam knows he was saying it to assure himself rather than Sam. " _You're okay._ "

He had been a bit out of it at the time. Like he always seemed to be when the angel saved him. His head was throbbing from where he'd slammed it against the window and his lungs were tight with the smoke he had inhaled, but he knew--he _knows_. He remembers everything. Even if bits and pieces are a little bit fuzzy, he remembers every touch, every word between them.

The feelings he had been fighting down for most of his life wrap around him now so tight, cling to his skin, encircle his throat and _squeeze_.

The clatter of metal hitting glass sounds when his fork slips from his fingers, and he catches his head in his hands instead, because his chest is a mess, a mess of tangled remorse and impossible want. His heart throbs hollow and slow like the drumbeat of a funeral procession. It's beyond stupid, he knows. He's known it forever, and yet every single damn time he's tried to shake it and move on, have a real life with a real person, it’s never lasted more than a couple of months. He'll see something in the grocery store, the hazel eyes of the man standing next to him, the glare of golden-brown hair at the park, a glimpse of the angel he knows through the chaos of a crowd.

And then Sam calls whatever partner he'd been trying so hard to have a relationship with--and goes home alone.

It's so stupid. Beyond stupid, to miss and long for a man he's never even really met. A man--a man whose name he doesn't even know. It's pathetic. He's pathetic.

Except… he does know him, doesn’t he. He knows his thoughts. He knows his laugh. He knows his voice whispering in his ear and the shape of his body wrapped around him. He knows how he kisses… And he knows just what lengths he’ll go to to protect him because… because he cares too. And even if they’ve only spoken face to face once… he knows him.

And... he misses him. Fuck, he misses him. It's been a week. A week since the car accident. A week since he stupidly, stupidly kissed him.

But he had been kissed back, he'd pulled him in, and--

...

But he hasn't seen him since. Not a glimpse. Not a whisper. The pull in his chest that always told him he was there is silent and still. " _Remember me_ ," he'd said.

How could Sam forget?

And why did that sound like goodbye?

"Well, hello! You look kinda down, there, handsome. You okay?"

The voice ringing overly loud and cheerful jolts Sam from his twisting thoughts and his muddled mind abruptly remembers he's not in those trees with wings wrapped around him. The present holds the comings and goings of waitresses loaded with drinks and trays of food and the susurrusation of the few other afternoon patrons enjoying a late lunch or early supper.

His hands drop to the table and he looks up to tell whoever it is that _yes, yes, he's fine,_ just to get rid of him and leave Sam with his dark thoughts. Words to brush him off are already forming on his lips when he sees the man looking back at him, and shock stuns him silent. With all his words suddenly vanishing, his mouth drops open, and he… he says nothing at all. Short fingernails dig hard enough into the soft wood of the table that there'll be moon-crescents left there forever, and he doesn't--doesn't blink his eyes. In case he disappears. Again. Like always.

"This seat taken?"

Soft pink lips quirk into a smile as a thumb jabs at the opposite side of Sam's booth. Disbelief spreads in Sam's veins like ice water, but he shakes his head automatically, his voice somewhere caught in his throat as he watches the man slide in.

Honestly, it's only _now_ Sam notices there aren't huge spreading limbs from his shoulders. There aren't soft downy feathers. _He-He doesn't have wings_. He doesn't have wings?

Cool hazel eyes full of mischief and... softness... stare back at him, and he knows they're the same. They're the _same_.

"I should really introduce myself," he says, stretching a hand across the table. "I'm Gabriel." Gabriel? What is happening. Is he... But he has to be... But how--?

He's staring at the extended hand and yet can't find it in himself to move, so with a shrug, the stranger, who's not a stranger, drops it back into his lap.

"Listen," Gabriel continues. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I happened to see you over here and, like I said, you looked kinda sad. Call me artificial sweetener, but I couldn't leave such a cute guy lookin' so down if I could help it." Teeth flash in a crooked grin and Sam's heart stutters.

Still, he can't find his voice. He doesn't know what's happening, he's confused as hell.

But... at his silence a flicker of uncertainty touches... _Gabriel's_ familiar face. The skin around his honey-caramel eyes creases with barely-contained sadness, and he shakes his head. "Clearly you'd rather be alone."

What? Not even a--Fuck no!

He smiles a pinched smile and goes to stand. "I'll get outta your hair."

Sam's lungs compress and a choked off "No!" wrenches from his throat. His hand traps Gabriel's on the table before he can stand, hard and probably hard enough it hurts. Gabriel glances down and then back up, and Sam licks his lips. "No," he repeats, quieter. "Don't go. Please." Hesitation brings Gabriel's scrutiny to Sam's face and he tries very hard to put every ounce of imploring, pathetic _need_ in his eyes he can muster. And pretend the warmth under his palm isn't as distracting as it is.

Whatever Gabriel sees must satisfy him, because he settles back in his seat and smiles. "Well if you insist," he teases. A sigh breezes from his lips, and, reluctantly, he takes his hand from Gabriel's. "So, what's got you so down?”

_You_. He almost says it, but he's still not certain. Well, he's certain. He'd know that face, those eyes, that slicked back hair, anywhere--and _had_ every time he'd caught a glimpse of him in the background of his life. He just doesn't understand what's going on. Or where Gabriel's wings are. "It's... It's a long story," he says tentatively.

Gabriel sits back, fishing around in his pocket and says, "Well, I've got nowhere to be and a fondness for stories." A small wrapped lollipop finds its way into Gabriel's hand and he smiles at Sam as he unwraps it. The purple head disappears behind his lips, and Sam suddenly remembers the sweetness on his angel's breath. Then, it had been strawberries. He wonders what the flavor is today. Gabriel pops the lollipop from his lips, staining the crease of them with violet. Sam stares at it, lost for a second, until a pink tongue swipes it away, and he blinks up again. "Tell me your story, oh Wise One."

Golden-orange sunlight streams through the windows lining the wall where the booths are pushed up, filling the restaurant with fiery light. For a moment Sam looks out, his eyes watering at the burn, and thinks back to the very first time, so many years ago. He'd never told anyone the whole story, not even Dean.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and looks at the man. The angel? The perfect copy of his delusion?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know if this is real, if he's real, or if all of this is some confused misunderstanding.

What he _does_ know is he trusts the eyes looking back at him with patient and rapt attention. One look in their warm depths and he feels safe. Safe and… protected.

So he pushes his salad to one side and settles his hands on the table. He breathes in deep and when he breathes out, he's ready.

"Okay. I'll tell you. He saved me four times. And this is how it happened..."


	2. Part One - Then

Orange flames licked up the sides of the little toy fire truck, melting off the paint to white and then black. Red caught at the curtains over the window and then spread to the bed and started climbing the walls as heat had suffused the room, writhing like a beast.

Sammy was five years old. Left alone in his room to play with his toys while his mommy cooked supper.

His favorite toy was little more than a puddle of soupy melted plastic, and Sammy was screaming his head off, tears and mucous streaking down his face as smoke choked his little lungs as he sat, trapped in the middle of a blaze.

Later, years later as a curious teenager, he learned that the cause had been faulty wiring, and thanks to the dryness of the weather, the fire spread lightning fast. It started in his room where a lamp was plugged in. Dean had been the first to hear his little brother screaming, but by that time, flame was blocking the door. The heat of it, as he banged his nine-year-old fists against the wood, gave him second-degree burns.

John ushered his wife and first born outside and was just about to rush back in for Sammy when miraculously, the little boy stumbled out all on his own, coughing, soot-streaked, and weeping, but safe. It was inexplicable, but with their home burned to the ground, the Winchesters counted their blessings and focused on more pressing matters.

Still, stories of the little five-year-old claiming a "bird-man" had saved him from his burning room circulated in the local newspapers for a couple of weeks. 

It was the first time Sam had seen him. His guardian angel.

Okay, back up. 

The little red firetruck had been a present from his big bro last Christmas. At the time, Sam’s little hand hadn't been large enough to stretch across the top of it. This was September, though, and in nine months he'd grown enough to steer the truck up ramps and across his bed and over the windowsill, narrating the voices of the firemen inside. The spark from the outlet surprised him enough that he dropped the toy and scrambled away.

Even as an adult, the second most vivid image in his mind from that day is that truck, bright and shiny red, with its little ladder and plastic firemen sitting inside--melting. Plastic dripped and spread in lazy pools of color. Little men in yellow suits and bright hats fell in their seats and congealed with the rubber until unrecognizable in patches of brown.

The whole thing ended up black by the time the flames had spread everywhere, little Sammy tiny in the middle of the room, terrified and helpless. 

As little as he was he'd never had difficulty understanding death. Bugs died, lizards died, dogs died.... People died.

_"You're only five! How are you so smart?"_ Dean was always saying this to him. Sam was smart. He was _smart_ , so why didn't he know what to do?

The sound of his brother's voice yelling on the other side of the door gave him hope, and he screamed " _Dean!_ " in terror.

But by then the fire was blazing and Sam cried out as it burned hotter when he neared the door. Dean's voice disappeared, and Sam scurried backwards, covering his head and knowing that he was going to die. Dean couldn't get through the door. Sam was alone. The flames were burning up the room. _He was going to die._

The strangeness of the brilliant white light, so different from the leaping orange and red, caught his attention, brought his head up, and the sight that greeted him... Well, for a second he forgot about the fire and the smoke and the tears on his face.

It was a man, glowing white with light _bursting_ from his eyes like a superhero. And… stretching from his back, huge and crowded in Sam's small room, were wings. Falcon-like in their spread but pure, pristine gold, arching so high it seemed like the fire itself was cowering back from them.

The next second the man was kneeling in front of Sam. For the life of him, he can’t remember the words that he said, but his voice was calm and gentle, defying the roar of flames surrounding them. His wings draped around him, blocking out the dancing red, and when Sam nodded his head, he smiled and lifted him into his arms.

He had just one brief chance to feel a bunch of feathers against his palm, his face buried in the stranger's neck, before the feathers flexed, and there was a rush of wind, as strong as a gust but short as a burst and then gone. 

Sam hadn't realized how loud the crackling had been in his little room until it was gone. Or... _he_ was gone. Because they were suddenly downstairs, where the fire had yet to reach and the door was standing open.

Sam's ears rang painfully as the bird man set him down. He started crying again, and with a gentle, placating smile, the man glanced anxiously past him out the door. A swish of his fingers pushed back Sam's soot-greased hair. A nudge in the center of his back directed him through the doorway, and the next thing he knew he was being wrapped in his father's arms.

His brother was there next, and then his mother, holding all three of them and crying almost as much as Sam.

When he looked back in the doorway, the winged man was already gone.

That was the first time.

 

***

 

Sam learned pretty quickly to keep his story to himself. 

The only people who believed him were Dean and his mom who told him the man was an "angel." Ever since that day, she always whispered them that angels were watching over them when she tucked them in at night. Sam's dad never approved, deciding it was nonsense created by a shocked and imaginative kid and tried--and failed--to get his wife to stop encouraging it. 

And… that was it. Mom and Dean. Anybody else he told laughed in his face or made fun of him or told him he was making it up or crazy. He _wasn't_ crazy and he knew what he saw, so he kept it to himself. _He_ knew it was true, and he believed it, and if nobody else wanted to listen that was fine.

He maintained that certainty for _years_. And despite his youth and despite the fact he couldn't really talk about it with anyone, the memories didn't slip away or become buried under his present or most recent past.

While he didn't think about it every day of his life, he doubted more than a week ever passed without him remembering. Thinking of the bright blue-white light from the angel's eyes when he first appeared. The soft texture covering powerful muscle under his palm. The soft smile he gave even in the midst of chaos. The finger-swipe through his hair.

Of course, he was a kid, so at that time, all he felt was a perpetual sense of awe and wonder. Curiosity. Longing to see him again. It was a long time before he realized the feelings he had, had grown and deepened into something else from childhood and that first time.

Anyway, after that day he'd catch little glimpses of the angel in his peripheral vision. The first time it happened he wasn't sure of himself. He thought he saw him leaning against the schoolhouse while his first grade class had recess, but he'd spun around so fast he'd only caught a glimpse of a man and a flash of white. When he looked back there was only a teacher standing anywhere in the vicinity. He'd asked his friends, but nobody else saw him. Still, he started paying more attention and after that, well, he rarely got a clear sight, but Sam knew he was there and often too, almost always. In the shadows or on the edge of his vision. Nobody ever saw him but Sam, and Sam didn't tell anyone, even his mom. But he was there.

 

***

 

The second time Sam was thirteen. 

The lake was about two miles from his school, in the wrong direction. He wasn't supposed to go there by himself, but for the _second_ time Dean had promised him they'd go and then canceled because of some girl. Sam was done with it. He was busy. Mom wouldn't notice because she thought they were going to the lake anyway. 

So he hoofed it. Didn't even have swim trunks, and he had to lug his backpack with all his books that he _would_ have thrown into the back of Dean's old pickup, but at the time, he didn't care. He'd swim in his boxers and change when he got home.

The burning feeling of annoyance in his chest fueled his legs and let him ignore the pain in his shoulders from the weight of his books. 

Still, when he got there, he dropped his backpack, stepped out onto the white rocks feeding into a little cliff that fell into the lake, and slumped to the ground to catch his breath. Before him, the lake stretched out and zigzagged around a corner. Green trees and large rocks mirrored on its surface, the bright, blue sky spotted with puffy clouds making up its center. The water barely lapped at the base of the five-foot drop-off a couple feet from Sam.

It was still. It was quiet. Everyone else was at work or home doing their homework in the middle of the week, the lake free and open to him alone.

It didn't take long for the quiet to melt into solitude, for solitude to melt into loneliness, and for that to renew his anger at his brother for ditching him. 

And there was a stupid rock digging into his backside!

With a growl, he grabbed it and threw it into the lake. The second one skipped a single time, so Sam threw another, more intentionally but still too powered by anger to really skip--which only made him more irritable With a huff, he stood to his feet, a little off-balanced on the shifting gravel, and took another stone. Taking a step, he whipped his arm forward, and with that mix of motions the rocks under his feet shifted.

Suddenly, he was sliding, and in a desperate effort to keep from falling into the lake, he lunged backwards, except by that time it was too late. The ground beneath his feet was gone, and his lunge only led him to smack his head on the way down. 

With a yelp of pain, he dropped the short distance and plunged right into the cool lake water. Some small part of his brain, probably the instinctive bit, remembered to hold what breath he had. The rest of him, though, wasn't communicating properly. 

He sank into the water. His arms remained motionless, drifting lazily up as his body sank deeper, his clothes and shoes dragging him down. A throbbing burst across his skull, pumping rhythmically. A wand's whip of red curled in the water. 

Way back, far deep in his mind he was panicking. He knew this was wrong, that he needed to move, needed to swim, needed oxygen soon. But that voice was mellowed by the gentle gurgle of the water. The pounding in his skull silenced the screaming, and for a moment, Sam drifted. His legs, his arms--they were unwilling to move. And his his body sank, limp and lifeless.

His lungs were just starting to hurt when someone gripped him and pulled him back into a chest. A body, warm and big and strong, tucked around his, and with a surge of something powerful, they broke the surface of the water. Spluttering, Sam sucked in deep breaths, groaning and whimpering at the pain in his head as the person _did_ something again. There was a _flap-flap_ and then he was on dry ground. Just like that, from one, shuddering, painful breath to the next they were up on grass and dirt, no water, no white rocks. And there was a voice, talking, muttering. With a huge effort of will, Sam tuned into the words being spoken, and they went something like,

"--Damnit, kid. You had better be alright. Stupid idiot. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? And now I'm friggin' soaked. I _hate_ being wet. These stupid things are going to take forever to dry out and be puffy and downright ridiculous when they do, and _you_ could have _died_. You stupid, stupid--" a shudder worked through the body Sam was leaning against, clinging to. Fingers stroked through his wet hair, as the voice went on muttering. Sam hissed with pain, still not quite all the way there. He was confused and the fingers were poking at his head, and his head _hurt_. 

The voice kept talking, the words coming and going with his awareness, but something was telling Sam to _open his eyes, open your eyes right now!_ His vision didn't want to focus, blurring and fuzzing and--but he saw a great golden thing curling around him and with a great deal of concentration, he made his eyes focus.

Those were… they were…

Feathers. Wet and sticking up, but... Those were _feathers_. "I'm not really supposed to do this, just supposed to keep you from _killing_ yourself, but dang it, this lump rivals the plump peaks of Madame Monroe, and if you die from bleeding in your brain or something, that counts right?" The fingers prodded and Sam groaned, curling his arms around the one still wrapped around his middle holding him up, and tilted his head to see the person he was leaning against. 

His eyes didn't glow like they did last time. This time he could see their natural color... And they were so light a brown they were almost yellow. Hazel, Sam supposed, though he'd never seen that shade before. 

A shaky smile quirked up one side of thin lips, and the angel said, "Sorry, kid. Gonna have to knock you out. But you're safe, I swear."

Two fingers touched his forehead and consciousness fled.

 

***

 

When he woke up he didn't even have a headache.

He jerked upright in his own bed in his bedroom at home. He was still kinda soaked, but there was a towel underneath him, saving his bed from the worst of it. His backpack sat in the chair in front of his desk, and when he ran his fingers through his hair, across his scalp, he felt nothing. No lump, no pain, not even the line of a scar. 

_You're safe, I swear._ The words rang in his head, the foggy memories of amber honey gold, ruffled feathers and hazel eyes swimming in his thoughts. 

He was real. _His angel was real._ And he'd probably just saved his life a second time. 

When he clawed his fingers through his hair again, slicking the wet tufts back, it was more out of nerves this time than shock. 

_You're safe, I swear._

Not once had he felt anything other than _safe_ with the angel. His angel.

"Sam! Supper!" his mom called cheerily down the stairs. With a flinch, Sam realized it was late. The light was growing thinner outside his window. He must have slept a while, and... he was still in his soggy clothing. "Sam?" The voice was closer this time, as if his mom was halfway up the stairs. 

"Uh, y-yeah, I'll be right there!"

With a bolt of motion, Sam changed his clothes, dropping the wet ones in the basket, opening his window, and setting his gross soggy shoes on the sill to dry out with the fresh air. 

When his mom asked, he said he'd showered.

Dean shoved him and tousled his wet hair, but he also gave him the last serving of meatloaf which he always claimed, so Sam figured that was his way of apologizing. 

Later, after he'd washed off as best he could with a washcloth since he couldn't shower "again" without looking suspicious but was unwilling to go without at least trying to get rid of the muck and microorganism, gross feeling of lake water drying on his skin, he collapsed on his bed with a sigh. 

For a few moments, he let his mind sink into empty exhaustion, putting the events of the day behind a wall. Just for a minute. He covered his eyes with an arm and kept his head blissfully silent. The things that had happened... well, he knew he had to process them. But there were no distractions. He had time.

Based on the clock on the bedside table, he made it almost five minutes before tendrils of memories began twisting through his thoughts. 

Oddly they were mismatched and out of order. The first thing were soft eyes creased with worry. The soggy, almost spun-gold hue expanse of a wing, feathers dragging across the ground as he and the angel sat crumpled on dirt and patches of grass. A voice jabbering almost unintelligibly about... him, about... his wings, he thinks. He thinks he was talking about his wings and how they'd gotten soaked. From there his mind goes back to the lake. The angel must have plunged in, and that powerful burst--it was his wings stroking water. Water.

Water.

His ears still felt muffled from the muted silence of the lake. He hadn't been able to move. His body, he--he was probably in shock. Staring at his own swirl of blood and unable to do anything. Barely holding his breath. Almost choking--

With a terrifying breathlessness, Sam pushed himself up with a gasp, the bed and its softness suddenly suffocating. 

Barely were his eyes open when he heard a familiar _tuft-tuft_ , and he jerked. There was a flick of a shadow through the moonlight pouring in through his open window moving too fast to see. One of his shoes dropped from the sill, rolled down the roof, and by the the time it tumbled over the edge and hit the ground far below, Sam was at his window. "No, wait!" A soft _thump_ accompanied the tossing of his other shoe back somewhere in his room and out of his way as he stuck his head out the window. "Angel?" he asked. 

The _creak-creak_ of a swing from the neighbor's backyard, pushed by a breeze, and the barking of a dog were the only sounds that answered him. Still, there was... _something._ He didn't have any of the typical symptoms; his hair didn't stand up on end, his neck didn't prickle. Honestly, he wasn't sure what it was, he couldn't really explain it to anyone. The best word he had was... a pull. A tug in his chest that told him _he_ was nearby. He was there. The angel.

The slope of the roof from his window was steep enough that if your footing wasn't sure, you could very easily fall to your death. But behind his window there was a ridge, and if you stepped out on the slope from Sam's window and made it the few steps to the ridge, you'd have a comfortable spot to hang out in silence and watch the sunset, or, more often in Sam's case, the sunrise. When the whole world was quiet, even the birds, and the sky slowly brightened from indigo to deep blue, to lavender, before the orange crescent sun came up in the east.

And mom wasn't awake to tell him to get his butt back in the house and never go out there ever again do you hear me. 

For some reason, some... magic, or instinct, or something, somehow, Sam knew the angel was up there, just behind his window, sitting on the ridge. If Sam really wanted he could lean out further and crane his neck and look, but already he knew that if he tried that the angel would be gone before he got a chance to see him. So he didn't lean out farther, and he didn't try to look. 

He licked his lips.

"What if... What if I just talk? And you just stay?" Not surprisingly, there was no answer, but neither was there a rush of air as wings were brought down. And the pull in his chest was still there. He took that for agreement. "So, uh, I suppose you know this already, but... I'm Sam." His palm flattened on his chest. He stared at the line of the privacy fence surrounding his backyard. At the street over. At the creaking swing next door. "I don't know why you picked me... Do all humans have angels? Uh, anyway, I want to thank you. You probably saved my life--again. And you healed me, somehow, and brought me home. Mom and Dad didn't even find out I went to the lake, so... Thank you."

Aside from whatever it was telling Sam that the angel was there, he wouldn't have known. There wasn't sound or a flicker of movement. Nothing. 

"You said something like... you 'weren't supposed to do this' earlier. So is there some rule that says you're not supposed to interact with people? I mean... I guess that would make sense. Sure, there have been angel sightings and reports all across the world throughout time, but never anything clear. No legit videos or pictures. Obviously no winged dudes walking down the streets. So, probably, people have had similar experiences as I have, right? Where someone like you saves somebody and that guy tells his story later..." Sam trailed off. There were a ton of books he'd read about angels and he'd done a bunch of internet surfing, but he'd pretty much stopped talking about any of it when he was a little kid, soon after the first time he saw him. There were plenty of times Dean had teased him for whatever he was reading or his mom fingered the spine of a library book on his bedside table, but that was it, so he'd never really talked about it out loud. Even if his audience couldn't or wouldn't respond, it was nice just talking about it with somebody. Somebody who wouldn't think he was crazy.

"I get it. Kind of," he said. "But that sucks." With a sigh, he dropped his elbows on the sill and held his chin in his hand. "I have so many questions.... Still, I'm glad you're here. I've never stopped believing you were real, ya know. It's nice knowing. Being able to thank you. Talk to you." For a minute or two he went quiet, faintly noting the sounds of night but not really listening. His mind was going over and over his fall into the lake, his rescue, the disconnected, fuzzy images of the angel's face. Everything his angel had said.

"Oh," he muttered. "Sorry about your wings. I hope they're dry now." He tilted his head. "They're probably not, and I bet that makes flying difficult." He winced and went for the bad joke. "I promise I'll try not to almost-die-by-lake next time."

It could have been his imagination playing tricks on him but he thought he heard an aborted sound, like a huff of laughter. It was so brief and so quiet, he couldn't be sure. Still, happiness twinged in his chest and he sat up a little straighter. 

"So..." he said. "Next time. Will there be one of those?" He traced the edge of his windowsill with a fingertip, collecting the accumulated dust just inside. "I mean, assuming I don't almost die again tomorrow night. Will you still be here... ya know, watching over me?" Saying those words made heat flare in his cheeks and he ducked his head in embarrassment. He sounded like a such a girl, ugh. 

And yet, still, his ears pricked, searching for the slightest sound, the slightest acknowledgement. He didn't get one, at least not verbally, but he thought he felt something in his chest where the _pull_ was. Like the faint vibrations of a string between two empty cans. And it felt like a yes.

Despite himself, he smiled.

Still, just in case, he stayed up most of the night, sitting in his desk chair by the window, talking very quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

The lights blurred and burst in flares of color, oddly bright for a nightclub, much brighter than he'd noticed when he'd first come in. His eyes stinging and prickling, Sam shut them and rubbed over his scalp, through his hair, knuckles bent and fingertips prodding. The "music," if it could be called that, hadn't improved any, and the pumping, droning, throbbing mess of senseless beats was banging pain into him like drumsticks to his head. 

"You okay there, Sam?" The unwelcome feeling of a hand on his suddenly clammy skin forced Sam to open his eyes again and face the man he had been flirting with for the past thirty minutes. Brady. He didn't get a last name.

The blond was smirking slightly, and, as attractive as he was, the guilt Sam was feeling for being here in the first place, the guilt he had been fighting since he slammed the door and typed his destination into Uber, was being compounded by the throbbing of his head. He felt kind of sick. And he was fucking tired. What the fuck was going on?

"I'm-I'm okay," he lied, trying to smile and knowing he was falling short. Even talking--well, yelling over the roar--was hurting, hurting his head, hurting his nerves, which seemed to be on _fire._ Something was wrong with him and he didn't know what.

The bartop seemed suddenly closer. The cool plastic like ice on his arms. When had he leaned onto it so heavily?

"Woah, you don't look good, Sam." The silky voice he had liked when he met Brady was grating on him now. Longing for home and silence and his own bed bled through him like ink from a well. 

"Here, have another drink." The effort of shaking his head made him feel like he was going to puke, so he stopped and pressed his forehead to the bar top. A shot glass was pressed between his fingers, and, instinctively, he tried to lift it. But the thought of the burn it would bring sounded utterly unpleasant so with a cringe, he set it back down, watching, blinking as it sloshed over his fingers.

He was so tired.

It was only a fingertip that traced up his arm, but it felt like burning oil and Sam hissed. "Want to go outside?" Brady asked. His eyebrows were raised, lips bent in a soft smile that somehow seemed... off, but Sam couldn't think hard enough to figure out why, so he just nodded.

Outside. Air. Home. _Safe._ Angel...

He let the man help him from his stool and move him through the dance floor. He was sagging on him way more than he meant to. He was lurching with every footstep. His mind was too foggy to realize yet just how much danger he was really in. 

 

***

 

It all could have been avoided if he'd just... stayed at home. Sat in his apartment alone. Or, not alone, since there was an angel outside his window, but a silent, unresponsive _dick_ of an angel, so, might as well be alone.

But yesterday he'd broken up with his--What even was Max? They'd only gone on a handful of dates so they weren't boyfriends, but Sam had liked him, a lot. And then he'd seen that pair of chartreuse eyes, staring at him outside the restaurant. Okay, so he couldn't really see their color from where he was, but he saw the sad crease of them. And he saw the wings, bent low and drooping, people walking by behind him like he was as invisible as ever. And Sam could imagine the intense color easily. He dreamed about them every week.

The eyes widened when Sam looked at him, and in the next second, he was gone. Like he always was. Because Sam was probably fucking crazy, but then, his delusions didn't talk, and who’d ever heard of mute apparitions?

Whatever, either way, the next thing he knew he had practically run from the restaurant and was striding out on the street. Max was trying to talk to him, following anxiously behind him, pleading with him almost, thinking that something was wrong. Well, something _was_ wrong. Just not what he thought. 

He'd broken up with him then, and Max was confused and hurt and it hurt Sam to see the shock and pain on his face.

"Are you happy now!? Are you? Because I'm alone--again! Because you can't let me go." Quieter, "Because I can't let _you_ go." The night air had been cold, drifting in through his open window in his apartment in the small city. A light flickered on at a neighbor's house and he figured it was probably his fault whoever it was had woken. But the angel was out there, he could feel it, like he always could. He fisted his hands in his hair. "Fuck you," the words were a hiss out into the night before the slam of his window.

And then… and _then_ , he himself cry.

He was just... _tired_. He didn't date, rarely even went out with friends. He was messed up. He was in love. Probably been in love since he was five years old, and no matter how fucking crazy that was, now matter how hard he tried to move on in a meaningful, healthy way with an equal, balanced relationship, he never could.

All those years ago when Sam was thirteen, the angel had come back the next night like he'd thought he would. He came back the night after that too. And the one after that. And the one after that. Sam wasn't sure, but he thought he may have been there all along, every night of his life, and it just took Sam time and experience to realize it, to... sense it. But whether or not that was true, from that day forward he was always there, no matter where Sam was, just outside his window, hidden from view, but there. And listening. 

Sam talked to him every night, even if only to say "Goodnight, Angel" after reading for a couple of hours and clicking off the light. But he never got anything in response.

Well. That wasn't entirely true.

Once in a blue moon he heard a laugh or a low chuckle from a story of whatever had happened that day, or from a particularly sleazy joke. Once or twice he caught a sigh. He thought it was a sigh anyway, it was so quiet and so low Sam was never certain. There were a couple other small sounds over the years, muted almost immediately after they were made, but there just the same…

And there was the pull in his chest that told him things sometimes. Many things. Too much.

It was a strange connection… There were no words, no images, just feelings, sensations. A murmur of agreement. A twinge of concern, but… more than that. It was way more than that. A type of communication, but it was _more_. A connection, connection so close… closer than he had any right to be. He _knew_ him, knew his heart, his feelings, his thoughts. His amusement, his happiness, his pain… all of it. He knew his regret. And he knew his affection. That part--it was muffled, walled off, hidden. Like the angel was trying to keep it wrapped up, keep Sam from feeling it. And… most of the time Sam supposed he succeeded, because most of the time he didn't feel it. But every now and then, sometimes completely unexpectedly, something slipped through. It was like a brief, honey-warm light that was so strong, so intense--so fucking bright--and... terrifying... and _amazing_ that it took Sam’s breath away. Every time it happened, it was only for a few, _perfect_ seconds before it was pulled away again, but it was enough. Enough for Sam to hold out hope all these years. Shivering with every hum of longing and holding onto them with everything he had. 

But he was twenty six years old. Twenty six. He had his job, sure, and he loved his job. He was a vet, going on a year and half thanks to getting into undergrad at seventeen. And he loved his job. He had his family, mom and dad still alive, still kicking just outside the city, and Dean downtown. He loved his family. And yet all he had to come home to were two hamsters, a turtle and ghost outside his window. Always just out of reach.

Outside of work he rarely talked to any human, besides the cashier at the grocery store down the street. He rarely went out and when he did it was alone. When was the last time he even had sex? Sometime during college, he thought, a brief one-night stand with a pretty girl. He and Max had liked each other enough to go slowly, and Sam had broken up with him before they went beyond kissing. 

His romantic and social life had basically been on hold since he'd had a mild gay freakout when he was sixteen. He'd realized he was bi, and, well, it wasn't as much of a freakout as a revelation. Dean had already gone through it with their parents and even then, Mary had always been such a supporter of LGBTQ communities that it was only a day or two of standoffishness and a couple conversations with his wife late at night before John adjusted and fully accepted him. It had been even easier for Sam. But with that new understanding, the things he had been feeling for his angel for a long time suddenly made so much more sense. 

And it wasn't that he didn't date or have sex. In layman's terms, he had plenty of "spank bank" material to pull from, both from male and female partners. But the longest relationship he'd had was just shy of six months with a girl in college.

When he'd parted from her with a hollow in his chest and gone home for vacation, well... something happened. The very first night he was home in his own bed, he'd woken to a presence. Normally he was a pretty deep sleeper, but for some reason, this time, he felt like there was someone there--not in any kind of bad or scary way... It was a familiar presence. At first he thought it was his dad. He kept his eyes closed and feigned sleep, not really knowing why. And then a hand brushed across his forehead, pushing a lank clip of hair away and then sliding gently through his hair, and he knew it wasn't his dad. Staying still and breathing slow and shallow was suddenly so much harder. But he controlled his lungs, focused on the ease of his muscles and didn’t move a hair.

So, so quietly in the stillness of the room, with nothing but a gentle breeze and Sam's quiet breathing to interrupt, the angel whispered to him. Just one line… He said, _Be happy, Sam._ The fingers slid through his hair and stopped on the top of his head. There was the slightest sound of shifting fabric, and then a puff of humid warmth on his forehead. Lips followed the breath. It was just a moment, dry and soft, but the contrast of the warmth of his lips to the coolness of the room embedded the contact in his skin.

His heart pounded too hard, too loud, too... excited. He was sure the angel must hear him, but the presence of the hand in his hair remained for several more seconds before pulling away. There was a tense silence, a sort of rush of breath, and then the _tuft-tuft_ that signaled his departure. 

Sam's eyes sprang open. He scanned his room to make sure before he sat up. What he wanted to do was touch his forehead, feel where the angel had kissed him, but the sensation of his lips was still burning through his skin, he could still feel the movement of that hand through his hair, and he didn't want to wipe it away. Everything he had ever felt for his unseen guardian rose up and strangled him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He didn't know what to do with himself.

It had taken him a week. 

He didn't talk to the angel about what happened at all--in fact, he barely talked to him that week even though he always had, always found a way, even in college. Mostly he sat by his window and stared up at the stars. 

He hated himself for it a little bit, but he broke up with Jess over FaceTime. She lived on the other side of the country, and he couldn't lead her on for weeks until they were back at college together, so FaceTime was the best of a lot of bad options. She hadn't understood at all, and Sam hadn't been able to explain it. What would he even say? _I've discovered that the feelings I've been harboring for years over a man with wings who sits outside my window are bigger than I thought, and I can’t let him go_???

Of course, just because he figured this out, nothing really changed. The angel never spoke to him, never came to him. Sam went on with life. And he pined for someone he couldn't have. 

This is how he was eventually led to find Max. To break up with Max.

The day after that, everything, everything he was feeling was still there, still so damn strong, but there was also loneliness and frustration so hot he couldn’t ignore. He felt like an idiot, holding onto someone he couldn't even have, someone who wasn't even a _someone._ He'd implored the angel to come out, to talk to him, _to let him know he wasn't crazy._ And he'd felt pain through the pull, and other things he didn't have names for, but this time, it wasn't enough. He needed to _feel_ somebody, somebody real.

So he dressed sexy. Black v-neck. Carefully messed up hair. Tight, dark blue jeans that framed his legs perfectly. Black boots. 

"Fine then. If you can't satisfy me, I'm going to find a man, a real, _human_ man with a thick cock who will fuck me. Someone else will happily pound my ass into the fucking mattress. So make yourself scarce and don't wait up for me." Those were Sam's last words out the window, not yelled, but growled, low and angry before he'd shut and locked his window, pulled the curtains, and left. 

Three hours later, a long-ass line, some drinking, his best attempt at slutty dancing he hadn't tried since he was eighteen and smuggled in a very similar place, and he'd found Brady. Or, really, Brady had found him. He was dancing alone in the crowd, his arms up. His head was lolled to one side, and he was moving his hips, trying hard to get into the endless, tuneless beats pulsing painfully loud. He must have done something right because he caught his attention. He didn't even see him come up, but then there was a hand at his waist, and when he opened his eyes, this confident as fuck blond guy was leering at him. His eyebrows arched as if asking if Sam was into this, and with a smile, Sam dropped his arms around his neck in response. The man grinned, and a couple of minutes later, Brady was plastered to his back, thrusting his hips in time with Sam and the music. 

As sensory overloading as everything was, you'd think Sam would have been too distracted to feel anything other than his present. You'd think his electrons, spinning and accelerating, his neurons and protons, trying hard to process everything that was thrown at him, would be busy enough to push every other thought from his head. And yet, still, there was a throb of guilt under his sternum every time he felt the half-hard dick in Brady's pants push against his ass. And yet Angel was stuck in his head like a stubborn smudge he couldn't wipe away, lodged in his thoughts, always there, behind every whopping beat of music, sway of the crowd, drop of sweat, press of bodies, potpourri of odors, and hump of the stranger behind him. 

_Angel. Angel. Angel._

His solution was more alcohol.

Usually a “solution” preferred by his father and brother. But Sam needed it tonight. Needed to cut off his brain and stop feeling all the things he was feeling. 

Brady came willingly when he pulled him to the bar, and they found a place to sit. They actually introduced themselves then and after Sam ordered the first round, Brady slipped the bartender some cash and winked at him. At the time, Sam had assumed with his devil-may-care smile and predator attitude, he was just being flirtatious, even with Sam sitting right next to him. 

He was a fucking idiot.

The drinks didn't stop after that, not that Sam went overboard. He wanted to be a little drunk, yes; he wanted to forget and live in the moment, but he knew his limits. And besides, he didn't _really_ want to destroy his liver. 

He drank enough to make him tipsy, but it shouldn't have been so much he was hot and tired and sick, sagging on Brady and lurching through the crowd fifteen minutes later. There was a whispering in the back of his head, telling him something was wrong. Something was _wrong_. But everything was cloudy and foggy, and he couldn't concentrate. Moving, putting one foot in front of the other, was enough of an effort. He didn't realize Brady's "predator attitude" was real in every sense of the phrase. He didn't realize that he had a deal with the bartender, or that the money he had passed him and the wink had been a signal.

Sam didn't realize that he'd been drugged. Or, more commonly known as, _roofied_. 

The cool, almost fresh night air, unpolluted by the mass of people and alcohol inside, was so welcome, Sam startled and sucked in lungfuls the second they stepped out of some back door he hadn't even known existed. He sagged on Brady, the heavy doors behind them blocking out the worst of the banging music and leaving them in comparable quiet. It was almost deafening, and it was so good.

Sam wished it would've lasted longer.

"Hey, my man, watcha got for us tonight?" The shadows shifted and Sam blinked, trying to clear the beams of light burned on his vision from the lights in the club. They were in an alley. It was dark, lit only enough by the flickering lamp at the end of the street vaguely revealing clumps of trash in the drains and by the dumpster. And the three other men in the alley with them. One was leaning against the wall, the red flare of a cinder bursting from his cigarette and burning out halfway to the ground. Another was standing next to him, arms crossed, and the third was stalking towards them. Sam couldn't really make out their faces, but it didn't matter. He sensed danger and, in his messed up state, clung to Brady as his only defense. 

"His name's Sam. Pretty, isn't he?" The words were slow to make sense in the fog that was Sam's mind, but… that hadn’t sounded right. Hadn’t sounded like a man ready to get him out of here. Something was-was _wrong_.

"A bit big for my tastes, but at least he has some nice, tuggable hair." A finger brushed across his jaw and Sam tried to slap the hand away, but with the heaviness of his limbs the effort barely brushed the man's arm and he just tightened his grip. He turned Sam's head towards him forcefully. The only thing he could do was weakly wrap his fingers around the wrist holding him. Trying to push him away took more strength than he had at the time, so he glared instead with every ounce of _screw you_ he could muster. The man laughed. "He's more conscious than they usually are. The dose must've been a little too small for this giant."

_Dose?_ Wait. What? "Brady?" Sam slurred, the fingers tight on his jaw not helping. 

"It's okay, sweetheart, we'll take real good care of you and your sweet ass."

The arm around him patted his shoulder and it was then everything clicked. The money. The wink. The way he started feeling after his very next drink. The glint in Brady's eyes. Everything.

A sickening rush swooped in his stomach. Adrenaline gave his body the strength to shove away from the man who'd been supporting him. The man who'd _tricked_ him. Fucking _drugged_ him. Brady went with a surprised whoop, but, without his support, Sam lurched a step as the ground _rolled_ beneath his feet like a fucking boat, and he stuck his hand out to the wall to keep himself from crumpling. The grit of the bricks under his palm focused his balance a little bit. But there were still four of them. And Sam was sick and dizzy. His gut clenched and churned. He felt _sick_ , exhausted, and he was trapped. He didn’t stand a fucking chance. Until that moment he didn’t think he’d ever really felt fear.

Sam clamped a hand over his head. No. No way. No! He had to get out of this. "Listen, you don't want to do this," he slurred. "Let me go and I won't tell anyone."

One or two of them laughed. "Nah, we're already here. Might as well... _take advantage_ of the situation." One of the idiots snorted at his disgusting joke. Sam growled and stumbled, his feet heavy, his hand scrabbling at the brick.

"Aw, come on, sweetcheeks. Play nice." The first one came closer, a hand outstretched, and Sam curled his fingers. Every millisecond he had, he used to focus his strength, so that when the stranger was close enough, he reeled back in surprised pain. "Fuck!" He cradled his face, and, even in the dim, flickering light Sam could make out the blood pouring over his lips, igniting a tiny bit of satisfaction in Sam’s gut that burned for all of three seconds.

"Oh, you will fucking regret that, you little whore!" The other two had come forward now, and in a second, Sam was surrounded. Four large men and the walls closing him in. "We are going to mess you up so good."

"I can't fucking believe he hit you," another said.

"I like a bitch with bite," the last one purred. "I like fucking it out of 'em."

The clenching, twisting in Sam's stomach made him want to puke. But he didn't. No, instead he chose the one with white teeth grinning in the dark and spit in his face.

The brick wall suddenly slammed into his head and pain _ricocheted_ through his skull. Sparks burst behind his eyelids and he cried out, the concrete hitting his knees. His head was spinning so much he didn’t even really realize when the men grabbed him, held him up, and tugged him forward. He didn't have any fight left. His pathetic attempts at pushing them away did nothing. And then he was up against the wall behind the dumpsters, dirty styrofoam boxes, empty bottles, litter at his feet. Hands pushed into his back while someone tugged his hips out and he cried. Oh, damn them all to fucking _hell_! If he was in his right mind he would tear them all to shreds, but he had nothing, nothing. They had won, and he cried.

He was done. He was trapped, and they were going to--

No, they had _no right_. No, _please_ no. Fuck. He was going to be _raped._

A whimper escaped his lips, the wall supporting his weight just to keep from falling again as fingers and hands he didn't want touched him, held up. Dug in his waistband, tugged his pants down, as fear so thick and heady it choked him, burned his throat. He tried to push back, to push away. "No!" he yelled. "Please." Laughter was his answer. Disgusting jibes about his body, about him "begging" were his answer. Skin grazed skin, and it felt hot and burning on his vulnerable flesh. His cheeks pulled apart.

Tears leaked from Sam's eyes in equal parts horror and humiliation. His forehead ground against the rough brick of wall he was pushed up to, and the one thing, the one word that had been trapped in his thoughts all night burned in his mind. The only thing he could think of. His only hope. 

_Angel._

"Angel," he whispered, his clumsy lips twisting into the two simple syllables. "Angel, please... Save me." 

That was all he could do, all he had in him. He was done.

The touch of a finger, barely wet, prodded his hole, and Sam screamed in violation. But the very next second that hand was yanked away and there was a scream, a shout of surprise. In a second, all the arms holding him to the wall, holding him upright, were gone, and without their support, Sam collapsed to the ground. He was too out of it to do anything but tug his limbs closer and curl in on himself. He didn't know why they'd left him and he didn't know when they'd be back.

His eyes were open still, but he could barely concentrate, the drugs in his system making his brain foggy. All he saw was a flash of light and then feet. There were a couple of shouts, some curses, some cracks and thuds, and then silence. Somebody shoved Brady against the wall across from him. He recognized his voice from his whimpers and pleas. 

Sam could just make out a blurry flare of gold and dangling feet.

"How dare you lay your hands on him." The voice was familiar. Faintly familiar from memories long ago, and yet different than Sam had ever heard it. Low, the words growled and slow and so seething with anger, Sam's heart clenched in his chest. He wanted to fix what was wrong, make it better, make it happy again.

"I should destroy you. I could do it, ya know, so easily. I could obliterate you. Or I could drop you with some friends of mine in the Congo where that manhood of yours would be a delicacy, pathetic and shriveled as it is. Of course they'd eat the rest of you too." His angel paused as the begging and whimpering intensified. "But, you didn't try to _kill_ him, did you? No, no, no, and a punishment should fit a crime. So, I'll keep it simple and just remove you and your friends of the sacks that so drag you down in your miserable little lives and promise you, if you ever try something like this again I'll cut off the rest of it. Understand?"

There were some more words, some crying, some groans, and a couple flashes of light, but Sam was so tired. He was _so tired_ , the little bit of strength he'd garnered from his terrified adrenaline rush was gone. He went in and out of consciousness, trying hard to stay above the drag of the drugs and alcohol in his system and failing. But then there was a hand on his head, that for a brief moment, he flinched away from, but then he tilted his head back enough to look up and-and _oh_ , he would recognize him anywhere. Anywhere. A whimper breathed through Sam's lips brought the angel’s hand, slowly, slowly back again, stroking through his hair. A soft voice, twisted with pain and very near tears spoke to him. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't here, Sam. I'm so fucking sorry." The tightness in Sam's throat and the pressure behind his eyes meant he would be crying if he wasn't so gone already. He wanted to say it was okay. It was his fault for leaving his angel, for telling him to stay away. It was his fault for being such an idiot. But he couldn't, he couldn't talk.

His pants were tugged up, and arms wrapped around him, lifting him like he was nothing. His head lolled onto a shoulder, and for a second, he was just cradled. Just held close. "You're safe now," his angel promised. "You're safe now. I'll keep you safe. Sleep, my Stargazer. Sleep."

The voice, the feel of his arms, the soft brush of something against his cheek sent waves of calm to muffle the panic and fear and horror His already heavy body relaxed completely in the hold of his angel, because he knew he was okay now. He was okay. He was safe.

His soft breath warmed the air at his angel's neck as unconsciousness took him.


	4. Chapter 4

Stabbing pain in his head and incredible thirst were, he would admit, the first things that were known to his conscious mind. But the pressure of fingers tucked through his was the very next. Squeezing, not too tight, but firm enough to be noticeable, more than a relaxed weave. Even in his state, Sam knew. Knew instantly. Enough memories from last night were swilling through his thoughts to know enough of what happened, but he kept them at bay for a time when he would feel more ready to deal with them. Until it didn't feel like the walls of a car crusher were on either side of his head, slowly squeezing tighter for instance.

The pained sound that whispered over his lips was totally involuntary, and he instantly wished he could pull it back. 

The angel's hand slipped from his and Sam had only a second to plead, _No! Wait…_ before the _tuft-tuft_ of wings and rush of air told him he was gone. Still, Sam squinted open his eyes, prying them apart just enough to scan his room to make sure, and sighed. Melancholy muddled his chest. For a few minutes, he just lay there, neither sleeping nor thinking. Just silent, existing, letting his head throb and holding off the wave of... everything. Just, everything.

Thank God he had off work today. He intended to spend it in his bed, sleeping off the drugs and alcohol. 

So, Sam took stock of himself. 

The tight, rough enclosure of denim around his legs confirmed he was still in his clothes from last night. Except his boots had been removed. 

And, as uncomfortable and gross as he felt--although, weirdly enough, he _did_ feel clean, not in the shower sense, but just... magically clean--he was grateful his angel hadn't decided to tug off the uncomfortable pants or change out his clothes while he slept. After... Brady, the thought of anyone touching him in such a way while he was helpless, even someone he trusted as much as his angel, was... repugnant. 

Aside from the headache, the dryness of his mouth, the tenderness of his stomach, and the pressure between his legs making itself known, he felt, well, sore, but not as much as he should. The side of his head didn't hurt from where he'd slammed against the wall. He should have scrapes and bruises from shoves and hands and falling to the ground and whatever else, but... Without opening his eyes, he wasn't sure, but it didn't feel like he had any and he had to wonder if the angel had healed him like he had when he was a kid. 

The angel, his angel--he'd saved him again. Saved him when Sam had whispered _please_ and _help me._ Flown in with all the light and rage and power of King James' avenging angels. 

Fondness and hopeless longing ballooned in the cavity of his chest. God, he felt too damn much!

But no. No, he wasn't ready to think more than he absolutely had to and he wasn't going to feel any negativity towards his angel. Not today. He pushed the thoughts aside, and with some grunting and groaning and slivered eyes, Sam pushed upright and slowly, very slowly, to his feet.

Stumbling to the bathroom, he took care of his needs, brushed his teeth, drank a whole glass of water, downed two Advil with a second glass, and filled it up again to take back to bed after a shower. He thought that maybe the angel's power that had healed him had somehow cleaned him too, but he still wanted to scrub his skin and wash away even the memory of last night.

It was kinda slow and uncoordinated, he did most of it with his eyes closed, but when his skin was bright pink from the heat of water and he felt scrubbed, he finally stepped out. He dried off and pulled on his softest, most comfortable pair of pajamas. They were worn, the color fading and one or two small holes were forming in the seams but the way they felt like soft comfort against his skin, he didn't even care. 

After checking his hamsters and his turtle in their cages and terrarium in the living room, feeding them and promising a good clean cage tomorrow, he returned to his bed. After calling his boss and explaining he was sick and needed another day to recover so that he wouldn't have to face anyone yet tomorrow, he crawled under the covers, turning on his side away from the window, and shut his eyes. 

The pain in his head was finally lessening thanks to the pills, so he was able to drift pretty quickly. It was just sixty seconds, though, when he heard the sound of wings. So not only wasn't he asleep, but his angel _must know_ that he wasn’t.

His heart sped up. He kept his eyes securely shut, but the longing he had pushed down rose up again until he could hardly breathe. He wanted, more than anything, to feel those arms around him, holding him, protecting him. Making him _safe_. Safe in a way that only _he_ made him feel.

He parted his lips and then he--he took a breath--and then he said, really low, really soft so he wouldn't scare him away--he said, "What if... What if I don't open my eyes? And you just hold me?"

There was a pause. A heavy pause filled with silence and blood pounding in Sam's ears. His heart was ready to be denied. His ears were pricking, waiting for the sound of swooping wings. But there was still a cord of hope. He was hardly breathing just so he could hear, and then... movement. Not the flying away kind but the coming closer kind, and Sam stopped breathing altogether.

The bed dipped behind him with a familiar presence, the pull in his chest warm and buzzing as his angel drew ever nearer. There was another pause... And then an arm came around his waist, very, very tentatively, as if he expected Sam to snap or jerk away or deny him. On the contrary, Sam let out the breath he had been holding, nerves in his stomach vibrating. He scooted back a little, keeping his eyes firmly shut, and, getting the message, his angel wrapped himself a little more securely around him, pressing himself close so his legs were scooped, his angel's chest against his back. The little spoon to his big spoon. A soft sound whispered behind him; he sounded... _almost_... as desperately needy as Sam felt.

The body behind him was so pleasantly warm to Sam's shower-cooled skin, he couldn't help the twinge of happiness through his muscles, and he exhaled deeply. The comfort and fearlessness he felt in this embrace were almost overwhelming. Still, he was surprised by the streak across his cheek when a hot tear slid past his eyelashes. He couldn't believe this was happening. His angel was here, holding him, just because he wanted to.

"Thank you," Sam breathed, extra quiet, unsure if he was allowed to speak.

There was intense silence for a second or two before his angel nuzzled a little closer. " _Sam_..." The whispered sound of his name brought goosebumps to his skin. And though his angel didn't say any more, the _wounded_ sound he made, and the regret that tugged through their strange connection was enough for Sam to understand.

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. Angel, you saved me. I--" he broke off, fighting the tears, and tucked his head more into his pillow. "Th-Thank you." This time the words were for something else entirely, but a tremor passed through the body behind him and Sam was wrapped up a little more. A little tighter. Something so, so soft, beyond velvet and worn cotton, draped lightly over his torso. It took only the feel of it up against his arm to know it was an angel's wing. It covered him even more, warm, soft, and... protective.

They didn't speak any more. Even with the courage of blindness and words tripping over themselves to be said. But he... He wanted to know the name of the angel before he said those words. And he wanted, more than anything, to be able to look into his copper-leaf eyes when he said them. 

And besides that, exhaustion was again filling his head, even while being hyper-aware of the contact pressing unspoken confessions into his body…

So he let it go. He let it go for now and basked in the safety and comfort he felt. And he slept.

 

***

 

Sam knew he had slept better than he had in years when he came to hours later, lying in the same exact position he had been when he fell asleep with his angel draped around him. The memories of that, of his angel, being there with him, _holding_ him like Sam had imagined so many times, made happiness ease in his chest like melting chocolate. 

He felt across the bed, his arm bent behind him and fell onto his back with his reaching. The space where his angel had been was still just a little bit warm. But he was gone. Just to be sure, he asked the silence if he was there before opening his eyes. His bedroom greeted him. Books on two bookcases across from his bed with some art in between. His desk with papers and letters and mail across it directly to his right between his side table and the wall. The open window, closed and curtained, but so dark Sam realized it must be sometime in the night. There was a closet and a basket with clothes in the opposite corner, and there were two doors, to his bathroom and to the living room. 

There was no angel.

Sam breathed out slow through his nose and rubbed over his face. He wasn't really surprised that he was gone--his brain had known he would be, even if his heart hadn't accepted it yet. But he wasn't going to let that ruin the memory. 

The pull in his chest wasn't there either, so the angel must not be nearby. The realization of that, combined with the angel having stretched his boundaries last night more than he ever had before, made Sam nervous. Had--Should--Was the angel in trouble? Would he be back? Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. _No, no, this is hardly the first time he's disappeared for a bit. He'll be back. He's always back._ He wouldn't worry--he'd try not to. Not yet. 

That decision proved to be the right one. It was a few hours later after he'd cooked some chicken, lo mein noodles, and veggies in his wok. After he'd cleaned out his hamsters' cages, the little furry Maanen and Rigel rolling around in purple balls across the floor, bumping into things and each other, as he did it. After he'd checked on Vega, his turtle, and called his brother just to check in. After he'd done some exercises, showered again, and finally ended up back in his room with Jane Austen's _Northanger Abbey_ in hand, that his angel returned. 

The lax pull in his chest tugged, twisted, and warmed at his presence, and Sam let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Snapping the thin, hardcover copy of his favorite J. A. shut, Sam crossed to the window and pushed it open. "Welcome back," he greeted with a smile. The quiet of late night answered him with a dog barking in some nearby neighborhood. Sam leaned out on his windowsill, looking up at the sky and stars he could see through the the faint city light. "Some-Some part of me wondered if you would be," he confessed. "I hope today... I mean, I hope that was okay. I don't know what kind of rules or whatever you have to live by, but... I want you to know it meant a lot to me." His voice drifted soft and uninterrupted into the night. Like usual, there was no audible reply, but Sam knew the angel was listening. "If it's okay to... um... I mean, if you ever want to, again... Sleep in here with me, I would be more than okay with that." The whoosh of a car driving past below, caught on the wind. The dog continued his barking. These were the night sounds Sam was more than familiar with. He smiled gently at the stars above and whispered. "Anyway. I'm going to try to sleep again so my schedule isn't thrown completely out of whack... Goodnight, Angel."

 

***

 

Unbeknownst to Sam, quietly pushing his window shut and returning to his book in his apartment below, the angel Gabriel dropped his head back against the landing and stared sightlessly at the stars spotting the night sky above. He wished he could take his Sam up on his offer. Oh boy, did he wish. 

What a cliche, right? An angel falling in love with the human he was guarding? It was so dumb. He'd managed to pass a few thousand years without ever doing it before so why the heck now, huh? Why did he have to love him and make everything so much more difficult for the both of them?

You know why, the traitorous little voice in Gabriel's mind said. Petulantly. _There are a million reasons why. He's different, he's special. He's good. **And** he knows you're there and remembers you, and yet he's never been even a tiny bit afraid of you._

 _Yeah, yeah,_ Gabriel mumbles back at himself. _I know, alright?_

_Not to mention his jaw, chiseled and dusky that I bet would feel just divine under your palm._

_Okay... He does have a nice jaw..._

_And his eyes, how do you even describe them? Ethereal, effervescent._

_Woah, now, we don't use words like 'effervesc--'_

_And his lips, pink and so perfectly formed and kissable--_

_Okay! Stop right there, Mister!_

Thankfully, the voice cowed, if still into a bit of a _smug_ silence. Gabriel twisted his lips, angry and pouting, crossing his arms over his chest as he reclined on the slanted rooftop. _You know I can't have him, and you know why._

The voice didn't have anything to say to that.

It was the stupid fucking Host of Twenty, snooty and self-righteous. They had created rules millennia ago that being with Sam would break. He'd do it anyway--if Sam could ever want him--but they had the brawn to back up their rulings. In fact, that's where he'd just been. All those hours away from Sam were because the the Score had called him to Heaven and spent his time deliberating on his unauthorized actions with a human and deciding what to do with him.

The only reason he got off with a warning was because nothing happened besides sleep, and Sam didn't see him and Gabriel didn't talk to him. If they ever caught him interacting with the human in any way again, other than absolutely necessary in risk of danger to life, the punishments would be much severer. Imprisonment for a century would be the lenient route they'd warned him. A hundred years, locked away from earth. From _Sam_. Long enough Sam would grow old and live a life Gabriel would never see. Long enough he'd be dead by the time Gabriel got out.

The risk was terrible. He knew he couldn't gamble on never seeing Sam again, just for another night holding him in his arms. Finally holding him when he wasn't sick or drugged or hurt. Just holding him because he wanted to, because _Sam_ wanted him to. Inhaling his scent and knowing he was safe because he was there. Having the chance to smooth his fingers over his firm chest and hear him breathe and just... hold him...

Shit.

Suddenly shaky fingers combed themselves through his hair. His wings curled around himself, blocking out the stars and hiding him from the world. Protecting him and his stupid feelings.

He couldn't do it. He _shouldn't_ do it.

But.. the Score’s words had been... They had said, _If we ever catch you again…_

If we ever... _catch you._

Maybe... Maybe if Gabriel waited until Heaven's attentions were focused elsewhere. Until the watchers owed him some favors... 

Gabriel's heart clenched. He shouldn't. Less than thirty-six hours ago Sam had yelled at him out his window. He had promised to find someone who would hold him and fuck him if Gabriel wasn't able to. He'd cursed him. Because Gabriel had ruined another possible relationship.

Not that he’d meant to do it. He _swears_ he didn't mean to. As much as it hurt to see another person's hands on him, as much as it hurt for Sam to come home and not say a word to him because he was texting his human boyfriend, Gabriel knew it was for the best. Sam should move on, have a human relationship. He hadn't meant to be seen, but Sam had whipped around in his seat so suddenly, like he had known he was there, like he somehow _always_ knew, and surprised him. Gabriel had flown away as quickly as he could, but apparently that one look had been enough... It had been enough, just seeing Gabriel. Jeez, it had been enough to break up with the human and pin his hopes on someone who'd never even told him his name. He wasn't good enough for Sam, not by a long shot, but… _it had been enough._

It was selfish. It was stupid. But he couldn't let Sam go. Not this time. He was going to keep him, in whatever way he could, however Sam let him. And if that meant risking everything to have him in his arms again... Then he'd find a way.

 

***

 

It was twenty-nine days before his angel took Sam up on his offer.

Twenty-eight days spent recovering from that terrible night. Twenty-eight days, jerking off in the shower to the memory of the warmth of his angel scooping him out in his bed, as innocent as it had been at the time. Twenty-eight days sitting at his window and telling him if he could, if he wanted to, Sam would keep his eyes shut like before, if he just held him.

It was the twenty-ninth day that something felt different. A sort of intensity in his chest, through the pull, like the angel was nervous or excited... like he was planning something. It was the twenty-ninth night Sam asked him to come in, never expecting it to happen again.

But his angel always managed to surprise him. 

Like the past twenty-eight nights, Sam turned on his side away from the window. Unlike the past twenty-eight nights, this time, his eyelashes barely met the rims of his eyes when he heard what he had been longing to hear for nearly a month. The sound of _wings_. Forgetting himself, his eyes opened again, and he stared at the wall, controlling his urge to roll over and _see_. "Angel?" he whispered.

A beat of a silence, interrupted by a breath. " _Stargazer_ ," the word was whispered, but Sam heard it and grinned, suddenly remembering him using the same nickname when he'd rescued him in the alley. 

"I can't believe you're here," Sam breathed. "Come on," he said, pushing down the covers, anxious to feel him close again. Remembering himself, he shut his eyes. "Please."

The angel made another sound in his throat, followed by the _shhk_ of shucking shoes. The bed dipped behind Sam, just like twenty nine days ago. He stopped breathing when he felt the presence at his back. 

Just like before, the angel was tentative and slow, coming closer, but not pressing their bodies together until Sam scooched back himself. The weight of a hand at his waist, put there when Sam erased the space between them, was enough to make him croon, and he took it and pulled it around his chest, right over his heart. His fingers slipped between the spaces, and they held hands in the only way that they could from that angle. 

They settled against one another, the heat from his angel's over-warm body cocooning his perpetually cold human in comfort. A breath of bliss slipped between his lips. The rasp of it leaving his lips seemed louder than it should be in the silence of the room. He was almost afraid to talk. No, not almost, he _was_ afraid. Was he allowed? Would it break an unspoken rule? He didn't want his angel to leave again. In his perfect world he'd never be without these arms around him. 

Sam had always wondered if the connection between them was two ways, and while it wasn't exactly proof, it felt like his angel knew just what he was thinking when he tugged him impossibly closer and nuzzled against his neck. It felt like, _I'm not going anywhere._

"Y-You're so warm," Sam whispered. "You feel so good." The sudden idea of feeling that body against him, skin to skin, warming him to his core, excited a delicious shiver through his chest. That idea, along with the angel once again pressed against him was exciting his body in a way he couldn't deal with just then. The way his angel was positioned, with a certain part of his anatomy right at Sam's ass was, well, making it worse. 

He breathed slow, trying to think of other things and calm down. He couldn't get a boner--or... more of one than he was already getting. Subject change, subject change.

"Angel?" he whispered in the succeeding silence. "Why now?" he finally asked. "Not that I'm complaining, I just... wasn't expecting it. What's special about tonight?" He wasn't sure what to expect, and when at first all he got was silence, he figured that was all he was going to get. 

But then. 

"Heaven is busy." The words, said through his hair, against the base of his neck caused the tensing of the hair up his arms, down his legs. It took his mind repeating the words a few times to process what they actually meant together. 

"So, you're breaking the rules to be here?"

Quietly, "Yeah."

"And you're not supposed to talk to me."

"... No."

"Could you get in trouble for this?" Sam squeezed his eyes tighter. Somehow he wasn't sure which answer he wanted. Of course he didn't want his angel to be in danger, of course not. But if all this time he was staying away from Sam by choice...

Several seconds passed, to the point Sam thought he might not get a reply. Then, a sigh. "Yes." The unwinding of his gut was ruined by the tensing of his muscles. His angel could be punished. How would they even do that to a being who seemed so invincible? 

And then, just as quickly, the fact that he was even here, risking whatever punishment they came up with, just to be with Sam like this suddenly struck home. He wished he could squeeze him tighter, but as the little spoon all he could do was lift the hand over his heart press a kiss against his angel's palm. The slightest sound of parting lips responded to the kiss. "Thank you... Thank you for being here. With me."

A nose bumped against his neck, and, even if Sam didn't see it, didn't hear the words, he felt it, felt the way the angel pressed him tight to his body, felt the way he breathed Sam in, felt the escape of his emotions in his chest, a burst of so much he was feeling Sam couldn't even name it all.

"Always," his angel breathed. "My Stargazer."

The angel cared for him. If Sam had a moment of doubt before, he didn't-- _couldn’t_ \--anymore. He cared for him, deeply. The feelings Sam already had for him intensified almost painfully. His angel cared for him. His angel... His angel l--

No. No, he wouldn't think it. It was too... impossible. If he thought it, his heart would commit permanently. And he couldn't risk that. Not yet. 

Snuggling into the safe embrace of his angel, Sam got completely comfortable, but still tried his damndest to stay awake as long as possible. He was gunning for all night, he had determined to make it, but without talking, without moving, without opening his eyes, comfortable and wrapped in the coziest blanket in existence, he barely lasted an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered this song accidentally while writing this fic, and I couldn't believe how perfect it was, like it was meant to be. It's called "Stargazing" by Kygo. Here's a link if you'd like to give it a listen: <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=5YZbrovInos>


	5. Chapter 5

The last time his angel saved Sam was just six months later. Or, a week ago. It had been a normal, beautiful day. A warm front had washed the area in sunshine and puffy white clouds, gracing them with beautiful 78-degree weather in early October. But even if the rumble of thunder had been threatening freezing rain and it _hadn't_ been the perfect day, Sam would still have been in a _great mood._

Why? Because once again, last night, he had not slept alone. Once again, he had drifted away, held in the arms of his angel.

It had happened a total of _eight times_ since that first one. Never any regularity to it. Sam figured he had to wait until opportunity presented itself, and as sucky as that was, Sam refused to be anything but happy in this development, this... progression of... whatever it was they had. And he basked in every bit of affection his angel wrapped him in each time he came back. 

They didn't do more than sleep, though Sam had thought about it, um, a lot. But his angel still hardly spoke, whispering as if certain Heaven would hear him, and Sam hadn't pushed him. Besides, all it took for Sam to walk with a skip in his step and smile on his face all damn day long was the angel holding him the night before. And breathing in the fresh, sweet scent of him on his pillow the following morning. 

This thing they had going on was not totally healthy, he knew that. Some part of him still whispered that he should stop whatever it was and have a "real" relationship. But then he remembered the way his angel listened to him when he talked, for all these years, he always listened. He thought of his laugh, the one he'd only heard a handful of times, but was so genuine and unafraid. Some of the best memories were from the past six months when his angel had turned into something so much more vivid. The way he held Sam like he was his whole world. 

Was this dangerous? Yes. But for the time being, the reward outweighed any risk. 

So when that perfect day succeeded his perfect night, Sam's good mood was just about rivaling the rays of the sun. It was a Sunday, and that meant he was off work. It usually also meant he would have dinner at his parents' house, but they'd had to cancel because they were helping a friend out, and Dean had to work that day, so Sam had the whole day to himself. 

He supposed... if his parents hadn't canceled, he would have passed the day unscathed. 

It happened in the afternoon, when the sun was still up but just starting to dip towards the horizon. Usually driving for no reason for an hour or two with the windows down and music blaring was his brother's favorite pastime. But Sam knew of this great little nature park under two hours away, and with the sun up and the gorgeous weather, he'd figured why the hell not. He'd gone after lunch and spent a couple hours hiking down trails with little creeks and an abundance of trees, most of their leaves scattered at his feet. On his way back he'd followed some signs off the highway to a farmer's market and picked up a bag of fresh vegetables and a carton of blueberries.

While the veggies went in the backseat, Sam set the blueberries in the passenger seat for an afternoon snack before supper. His seatbelt clicked into place, and he popped a few of the berries into his mouth before he pulled back out onto the road. 

His sense of direction was pretty good and he was only a few miles from the highway, so he turned his radio back on. "Thunderstruck" was just a few seconds in, and, with a grin, Sam cranked up the volume. When it was almost loud enough to hurt he started bouncing his knee and bopping his head in time to the electric guitar. He barely even winced when Brian Johnson's shrieking voice sliced through the epic instrumentals.

_I was caught_  
In the middle of a railroad track  
I looked round  
And I knew there was no turning back 

The lyrics came to him as he made a turn and stopped at the red light, jiving through another stanza before popping some more blueberries in his mouth. 

_Sound of the drums_  
Beating in my heart  
The thunder of guns  
Tore me apart 

The light flicked green, and Sam hit the accelerator, singing,

_You've been  
Thunderstruck!_

The truck was brown. Was it weird he remembered that? The truck was brown, and it came out of nowhere, totally blasting through what must have been a red light. It came right at Sam, so fast--probably trying to race through the traffic light before anybody passed--that he only had a split second to catch sight of it and jerk his head in surprise before it slammed into him. 

One minute he was jamming to some overly loud rock music. The taste of blueberries was still on his tongue. One minute, he was smiling. 

What a difference a minute can make. 

The seconds after the truck slammed into him were a blur of terror. The car was flipping, and Sam yelled, his death grip on the steering wheel only for the sake of holding the fuck on. He had zero control as he went horizontal before continuing the roll and landing upside-down. 

He really wasn't sure, but he thinks he lost some time after that. A few seconds? A couple minutes? He doesn't know. But a haze of blackness speckled across his vision when he tried to open his eyes. The horrible smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled his nose. Static with intermittent bursts of music and the hiss and creak of settling metal filled the otherwise absurd quiet. Sam's arms hung down past his head, the cinch of the seatbelt and the crunch of metal around his left leg trapping him.

Pain radiated across his body, from his head to his shoulders, to his chest and side, and his leg. It felt like his leg was _shredded_ , which, in his delusional state he figured was a good thing. It meant he could still _feel_ it. 

In the wreckage of his totaled car at the little backwoods town's stoplight, Sam whimpered.

" _Sam!_ " There was some kind of cry, and that voice... he knew that voice. His mind worked fuzzily, but for some reason, it hadn't sounded real. It couldn't be real. "Sam!" It came again, and he slowly, carefully, turned his head, wincing as pain lanced through his neck. The glass in his window was shattered, but he was upside-down and his door was crumpled like a piece of paper, so all he could see was a bit of pavement.

Oh, and feet. They were coming closer. Actually quite fast, really. 

His door gave this protesting screech, and Sam cried out as the metal that felt fused to his leg pulled away. What he thought of as pain before was perforated by buckshot, and tears beaded in his eyes. There was a thunk, and then a face down at his level and all he saw was hazel. " _Sam!?_ " His angel's voice was high and panicked, probably because he couldn't tell if Sam was alive or dead. _Sam_ wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. Still, he tried for a reassuring smile. His lips felt thick and cumbersome though.

He managed some utterance of _Angel,_ choked and stuttered though it was. But instantly, the angel was reaching for him past the broken glass and twisted metal. He cupped Sam's head with shaking hands and closed his eyes. The next minute there was that swoop in his stomach that was almost getting familiar. The road disappeared, the car disappeared, the ugly smells of a wreckage were replaced by green grass and decaying leaves.

The twist of metal and the seatbelt, tight over his waist and chest, were replaced by gentle arms, holding him like he was nothing. As careful as they were, the change of position sent a jolt of pain through his stomach, and Sam cried out, digging his fingers in the cloth of his angel's shirt. "H-Hurts," he gasped. Crooning reassuringly, the angel set him down on the grass and began muttering in a gently voice could hardly understand but that was soft and soothing. 

"--know, I know it hurts. I'm so sorry. I'm going to take care of you, my Stargazer, don't you worry. You'll be fixed right up in jiffy, ok? Just hang tight. You're gonna be okay. You're okay--"

Only a few of the words really penetrated Sam's consciousness, but it didn't even matter. His angel was there and he would protect him. He would keep him safe. "A-Angel," he croaked. Lips on that face he never got to stare at long enough, pressed white and pulled in to a facade of a smile. Words continued to rain down on him and then a couple of shaky fingers pressed down on his forehead. Instant cool pleasure rushed through him, and he groaned with the wave of relief. Immediately, the pain in his abdomen lessened, and he sucked in a desperate breath, coughing in surprise and crying out as he jostled his leg. The angel's shut eyes tightened a bit more and the pain in his leg disappeared next. A split second later, he was only left with a raging headache and dizziness. Everything else was gone. His body was fine. _Healed_.

He just had a chance to suck in another breath, propping himself up on his elbow in amazement, when his arms were suddenly full of angel. "Don't you dare scare me like that ever again, you stupid idiot."

A choked off laugh broke from his throat at the insult. His heart seemed not to have quite caught up with his healing yet and was still jackhammering in his chest. "I swear I'll try not to," he promised unsteadily, sucking in lungfuls of air.

His angel squeezed him tight and then tugged him to his feet and pulled him right in again. Gold wings flared around them both, cocooning Sam in their spread and nearly completely blocking out the light of the sun. His angel's arms wrapped around him, secure and protective and safe. Even as they shook. A trembling that started in his shoulders and translated to his fingertips, pressed into Sam's back. 

His face was buried in Sam's neck, golden hair like a halo spilling over his head. Sam blinked, dizzy, feeling unsteady still, and so content to take comfort, to _give_ comfort. He nestled into that hair, holding the angel to him. Breathing in his scent. Fresh air and soft musk and sweetness--sugar and artificial strawberry. 

"You're okay," his angel whispered. But he held him a little closer and the cocoon of his wings drew in a little tighter. "You're okay," he repeated. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," he breathed against his hair. "I'm okay."

Still, his angel held him close, brushing his hands down and up his back like he was reassuring himself that Sam was whole. This wasn't just letting himself be held this time, it was holding his angel back. Somehow it was surreal, standing in the daylight--dizzy, still a little fuzzy, yes, but--awake and feeling the solid body under his palms. 

"I-I should go," the angel mumbled against his neck. "The douche nozzles upstairs won't approve of any of this." 

What? No, please. Sam's heart sank in his chest.

The pressure on his back eased, arms started pulling away, and Sam clutched at him desperately. "No, please. Please don't go, Angel." 

The golden head tilted back, chestnut eyes looked up at him. If he couldn't read it in his tense jaw or the crease between the eyebrows, his eyes, so damn _full_ , would have filled him in. His angel didn't want to go either. 

Something tugged in his chest. He wasn't really sure what. He honestly didn't know what came over him, because one second he was staring into those sad eyes and the next--

\--he was kissing him. His-His angel, Sam was--

Perfect, soft, malleable lips pressed between his in a chaste little kiss. Soft silky hair filled his hands, and he moaned because, _oh my god_ , this was his angel! His angel’s lips, his angel’s hair, his angel’s sweet, spicy scent filling his nose--His _angel_. He couldn’t--Was this really happening? But he stepped a little closer, and leaves rustled and crushed. Smooth, silky material twisted under his fingers, and the lip between his, as soft and unmoving as it was, was sending shivers through his stomach and pleasure racing up his spine because yes, fuck yes, this was _real_. A little bit of worry at his own actions because, damnit, this almost definitely wasn’t allowed, but now that he had this, now that he tasted him on his lips, he couldn't fucking _stop_.

Their noses brushed as he turned his head and kissed him deeper. And something--something opened up between them. That connection they had? It shuddered, and something so golden bright, so warm, threaded through his chest like two hands weaving together, and Sam choked, a sob catching in his throat. He fisted his hands to keep from stumbling, his liquid breath freezing in his lungs as his eyes blinked open and he stared at the angel in wonder. Shadows darkened around them, the soft swish of air and the brush of softness up Sam's arms sending shivers down his arms as wings closed around him. And then the soft, sweet, kiss-darkened lips beneath his found him again. 

Hands climbed up his chest, past Sam's arms, knocking them away only to bury in Sam's hair, go around his neck and pull him in, pull him _closer_. Sam gasped, sucking in a needy lungful of breath in the split second their mouths separated, and with a groan, his angel tugged him in again, tongue dipping past the seal of his lips and drawing sounds from Sam’s throat as he opened his mouth to let him in deeper--fuck yes, _deeper_ , while his brain screamed a litany of _yes! More, more, more, angel, angel… yes_.

It was--it was _intense_ like nothing he'd ever felt before. But with every twist of moist lips it also got _hungrier_ , and Sam--god--Sam wanted him. Ached with how much he wanted him, and for once, he didn’t even try to resist. He tugged him in, jerked him closer, fingers scratching up his scalp, nails digging in the back of his neck, turning his head, tongue grazing lips, and Sam’s soul sang. "Angel, Angel," he chanted, gasping air. Heat was creeping up his neck, down his groin. Throbbing, pulsing in his jeans, tightness trapping him.

He couldn't help the way his hips thrust forward, not meeting anything but seeking. But for the first time since his angel started kissing him, his hands slid from his hair only to grip his waist instead and stop him from moving even with his lips keeping up their assault. And Sam didn't get it. _No, fuck, how can you kiss me like this and not want more?_ A whimper whined from his throat. He pushed at the arms, but the angel's hands were iron, arms of brass, and all he could do was rock himself forward into air. A groan tore from the shorter man’s lips and their mouths broke apart. He dropped his forehead to Sam’s chest "You're killing me."

Sam blinked his eyes open only to find the gold of wings fluffed up and tight around them, barely letting more than trickle of light through, and he smiled in spite of himself. _Blocking me from view, he’s protecting me even now._

"I--damnit Star, I have to go," he stuttered, his eyes dark in the shadows. A stream of light slashed across his face, and Sam’s happiness crashed down so hard and so fast.

" _No._ No, stay." Sam brushed their lips together, gripping him tighter and _praying to god_ \--"Please don't go. Angel. You can stay. Can’t you? Stay, just stay."

"Fuck." Lips pressed roughly to his, kissing him hard and fast, then pulling away just as quickly. He stuttered, and then shook his head and kissed him again. "Fuck, Stargazer. I wish I could, I wish it were that simple." He pulled back just a little, still touching him, wings still wrapped around him, but putting space between their bodies, and Sam whimpered. He didn't want that space. Damnit, he didn't want it.

His angel looked up at the sky, daylight bleeding across his face, and then back at Sam. Worry creased the corners of his eyes. "They're calling me. They're angry. Sam, I have to go."

"No, no, please!" He tugged at him selfishly, and, selfishly he let him. He let him pull him in, he let him press their mouths together one more time. They kissed each other hard, and when his angel pulled away, Sam chased him, keening. 

"I'm sorry," his angel breathed. His fingers shook as they swiped a lock of hair from his eyes.

"No, no--"

"Sam, remember me, okay? Remember me, my Stargazer." The cocoon finally opened, golden wings spreading high behind slumped shoulders. The sudden light hurt his eyes, but he blinked them away, reaching for his angel, tugging at his hand. His angel let their fingers entwine for just a second before he let go and looked up. His wings came down in one great pulse, and then he was gone. Just like that, just.. _gone_. 

Sam stumbled forward. "No!" He spun in a tight circle, but… he was nowhere. The only evidence of his presence, an bright amber feather on the forest floor and the throb of Sam's kissed lips.

 

***

 

"When did you notice something was wrong?" Sam stroked through the black and orange fur the of the tortoiseshell, listening careful as her owners explained how she'd seemed lethargic and solitary for a couple days. She hadn't eaten anything since last night. Not a good sign. 

He nodded as he prodded her sides and under her stomach as she huddled low, scared but not fighting or running. A sweet kitty. He checked her ears and pulled open her jaw to look in her mouth. She didn't like that much but she tolerated it and returned to crouching as small as possible on the examining platform. "Good girl," he murmured, petting her gently. 

After suggesting a few tests, answering her owners' questions, and getting "Twila" squared away in the back, he checked the next clipboard and went into the next room. And the next one. And then back to the first. Over and over, going through each patient in each room until there was a lull, when he would check the results for simple tests, call owners to explain the current condition of their pets, and perform the two minor surgeries on his agenda today.

He told himself he didn't have time to eat. He told himself the only reason he refused to take a break was because he didn't need one.

If he kept working, everything would be fine. If he kept working, he wouldn't notice the empty feeling in his chest. If he kept working, he wouldn't think about yesterday. About the kiss he stole and his angel stole back. He wouldn't think about his words, _Remember me, my Stargazer._ He wouldn't think about how he hadn't felt him nearby since he'd flown away after he'd kissed Sam like Sam was the one thing he'd always wanted and would never get to have again. He wouldn't feel helpless and useless while his angel faced whatever punishment Heaven deemed worthy. 

If he kept working, everything would be fine.

"Doctor Winchester?" 

Sam flinched at the sound of his name. He was staring down at paperwork he was supposed to be going over. He had no fucking clue what it even said. "Yes, Amy?" Usually he'd make some comment about calling him Sam, not Doctor Winchester. He'd only told her half a dozen times. For some reason he just wasn't up for it today. 

The office's receptionist was smiling gently despite the obvious concern all over her face. "Are you okay?"

The darkness in the pit of his stomach swallowed his heart. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he lied. It slipped off his tongue with ease. Automatic response. The truth was way too complicated to explain. 

Amy hesitated but nodded and let him off the hook, and the day proceeded as usual. Sam worked. And he worked. And he worked. It helped keep him from thinking. It helped.

The next day was much the same, except the shadows under Sam's eyes were darker. The coffee in the break room disappeared a little quicker. The third day was worse because Dean stopped by unannounced. Brought Sam some lunch.

"Thanks for the food, but I really don't have time right now, Dean," Sam said, shining his penlight in the infected ear of a daschund. Sitting down and facing his brother wasn't an option. Dean had probably already heard from Meg--or, no, he'd bet it was Donna--that he hadn't been acting like himself. That something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Sitting down and facing his brother wasn't a good idea. Even if he weren't a cop, he'd know something was up. Besides, the thought of a greasy burger and fries made his stomach turn. 

"Come on, Sammy, I haven't seen you since Sunday 'for last. I drove all the way up here, least you could do is sit down with me for ten minutes." As soon as these words left his lips he made a face at himself. "Jeez, I sound like mom. Still. Point remains. You know you want it..." He shook the black and white bag tantalizingly--or, Sam figured, he _thought_ it was tantalizing. "I even got you a strawberry milkshake. You know you love those nasty things."

The daschund, of course, didn't like the drops Sam put in his ear. He tried to twist away, whining as he did it. Sam's grip was firm and he murmured encouragements and got it done. "I really have so much work to do, Dean. Thanks, though."

His hands scribbled notes on the clipboard without him even really having to think about it, but he had to stare at the page to ignore the frown his brother was giving him. He moved on to his next patient. 

"Now I know something's up. You're like an addict with these pink drinks, waiting for his next hit."

"Well maybe I'm not fucking in the mood today, Dean, ya think of that?" Crap, that was a dead damn giveaway, but he was losing control and he was tired. He was so. Damn. Tired. A headache was sharp between his eyebrows. Whatever patience he normally had was spread _thin_. 

"Sam." With a hand on his arm, Dean jerked him around to face him. "Come on. What's wrong?" The green of his brother's eyes was sharp and intense, searching out his own, but Sam just couldn't seem to make himself quite meet them. "Is it..." Dean licked his lips. "Is it _him_? Did something happen? Is he--"

"Dean!" he cut him off. He couldn't listen to this. He couldn't--He couldn't talk about it. The sharp points of his incisors pierced his lower lip. "Dean, I-I really can't talk about it, okay? I just..." He shook his head, pressure building behind his eyes.

"Okay," his brother said. "Hey," he said bending down to try to catch his eyes. "Hey, it's okay. As long as he hasn't hurt you--he hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"No," Sam shook his head at the ridiculousness of the idea. "No, he would never."

"Okay then," Dean nodded. "Then it's okay." He raised his hand. "However you wanna do this, man, it's okay. But you know I'm here. And you can talk to me. 'Bout anything."

His heart clenched. For a second he had to fight off the humiliating urge to cry in his own damn office. His forefinger and thumb rubbed the moisture from his eyes as he made a sound of agreement. "Yeah." Fuck, his voice came out wrong. "Yeah, I know."

"Okay." Dean didn't look happy but he looked accepting. "Okay then, s'long as you know that. I'm here in whatever capacity you need me." He smiled tightly. "I'll get outta your Rapunzel hair then, huh?" 

Sam snorted, rolled his eyes and Dean grinned. He tugged him in real quick, wrapping an arm around him in a strong, big brother kind of hug, and Sam let himself take the comfort offered to him. He hugged Dean back, quick, but tight, and almost smiled when Dean slapped his back once or twice before leaving. 

It took Sam a few minutes on the floor in the bathroom, screaming his frustration into his knees before he could get back to work. It took feeling the cold of the clean tile floor soak through his skin as hot tears soaked through the denim. When the fear and pain choked his throat he forced himself to stand up and grip the white porcelain of the sink. He sputtered when the warm water hit his face, but he did it again and again until strings of his hair clumped together and moisture dripped from his face and he felt like he could breathe again. 

Work helped. It kept his mind off things every day that his angel wasn't there. But work only covered the hours of 9-6 five days a week and 9-5 on Saturdays. Sure, he could push that to 6:30, maybe even 7, with his after hours animal care and paperwork, but at the end of the day he still had to go home. 

And his house seemed... so quiet. 

Sure, his dwarf hamster loved running furiously on his hamster wheel, and, while Vega was pretty quiet, she still _crich-crunched _her lettuce as she bit off piece by piece. He didn't even know why he thought it seemed so quiet. He was the only one to ever do the talking at night, but even with the night sounds drifting to his high apartment when Sam sat by the window, his ears screamed at him for sound. For noise. For _something_. But Sam had never talked to himself in his life; there was always someone listening before. So what would he say now?__

__The stars were bright that night, speckled in the sky. Sam followed the lines of his favorite constellations. Wondered if his angel was up there somewhere. Looking back at him._ _

__"I miss you."_ _

__The sound of his own voice surprised him. The heat of his palms seeped through the knees of his jeans as he sat and looked up a the hazy stars bursting from the darkness of the sky._ _

__"I miss you so goddamn much I don't know what to do with myself. It's been four days, Angel. Four days, and I have no way of contacting you or helping you, and I--" Sam broke off, shutting his eyes and feeling the drip of a tear from the corner of his eye. When he looked out his window again, he looked down instead of up. At the pavement far below. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll go to heaven when I die. Sometimes I wonder if I'll see you there."_ _

__Sam sat there until the cold set into his skin and seeped into his bones. Then he closed the window, kicked off his pants, and crawled into bed._ _

__When Sunday came, Sam called his mom to beg off their weekly family dinner. She was bummed, and it took some convincing before she accepted that he was okay, just needed some alone time, but she did accept it._ _

__Alone time was probably a bad idea._ _

__When he hung up the phone he didn't know what to do with all the time on his hands. Every day he had managed to go for his run, pushing his body to its limits. It kept him busy and physically overloaded to think too much before work. But without work today, getting dressed, hitting the streets, showering... It all just sounded like... too much._ _

__After hours of restlessness, lying in bed trying to read, slumping on the couch and watching crap tv, his stomach grumbled at him. He hadn't been eating very well all week. He could hardly keep anything down. But his stomach rumbled irritably. And Sam looked up from the bright tv around the darkened room, faint afternoon light muffled behind curtains, and sighed. He couldn't live like this. He had to--He had to _try_. _ _

__With grim determination, he decided he would get the fuck up, take a quick shower, and go out. Find that diner Dean always dragged him to down the street. Order something._ _

__Reluctantly, Sam pushed his body up and followed through with his plan. When he sat in the booth in the diner, though, he was already regretting his decision. The greasy smells from the kitchen were upsetting his stomach. And his mind, now entirely unoccupied and undistracted kept going back to the crash, to the kiss, to... his angel._ _

__"What can I get for you, sweetheart?" The waitress smiled at him when she came over._ _

__"Uh," Sam blinked at the menu, then shook his head. "Water. Water and lemon, please, and a house salad."_ _

__"Dressing?"_ _

__"Balsamic." With a nod she took his menu and went to turn in his order. It didn't take long for his salad to come out. Now Sam just had to eat it. With a sigh, he picked up his fork and twisted some lettuce around. He managed a few bites, but his mind was lost in the memories from the week before. His heart was lost, pining for someone whose name he didn't even know._ _

__"Well, hello!" A stranger said, overly bright, snapping Sam out of his consuming thoughts. "You look kinda down, there, handsome. You okay?"_ _

__There was something about his voice sounded so familiar..._ _


	6. Part Two - Now

The white little stick from the lollipop lies discarded on a napkin, the end discolored and chewed. Sam's water glass slips a little in its own puddle of sweat, the motion rocking the two remaining slivers of ice and the squeezed lemon, but neither of them notice. 

The numb ache that twists through Sam's jaw is familiar from nights and nights of talking endlessly to the one who always listened. But as dry and thick as his tongue is, he doesn't seem able to tear his eyes away from the man sitting across from him to get a sip of water, convinced he'll disappear and Sam will wake up in his bed drenched in sweat four blocks from here if he does. 

The man... The man that has _his_ face... has his fingers curled around his chin, his elbows pressed into the table. Golden wolf eyes glimmer with some unknown knowledge. Shine with something like... awe. The entire time Sam told his story Gabriel listened with rapt attention, and... and it seems so familiar, he seems so... Sam breathes deeply, a little winded after talking so much, and settles his hands, which he had been waving and gesturing with, down in his lap. 

"That's my story... Gabriel. Until you-you came here and sat down and listened to me." _Again_ , he wants to add but doesn't. Still confused and not sure how hard to push. 

"Wow. That is quite a story," his ange-- Gabriel? Gabriel says. Red smudges left on his jaw when his hands come down to the table are the only indicators of just how long Gabriel had been sitting just like that listening to him. His head tilts back, his jaw jutting as he processes. Sam's eyes track the line of his chin, down his throat to the small lump of his adam's apple. 

The twinge in Sam's stomach shouldn't surprise him as much as it does but he suddenly can't help the way his eyes travel lower. He drinks in the lick of skin where a shirt is unbuttoned and thinks to himself that he could really touch him. That Gabriel is, somehow, inexplicably _here_ with him. Sitting in front of him. Wearing the face of the angel Sam cares so very much for. He could--He could touch him.

"-am?"

Startled, Sam blinks the images of skin from his eyes and meets the ones staring at him across the table. "Uh, what was that?"

Gabriel's lips twitch like he wants to smile but can't quite let himself. "I said, and I quote, 'This guy sounds like a jackass.'" 

For about a single second Sam stares, blinking owlishly, before anger explodes like a firework in his chest. "You don't get to talk about him like that." 

"Come on, Sam! Sure, the termite flies outta the woodwork when you're in imminent danger, which is great, but the rest of the time? He leaves you to fend for yourself. You devote your time and energy to this guy, and what does he give you back? Heartache. That's what. The most you get is some pervy midnight cuddling and a couple o' kisses--after which he disappeared for a week--"

"Because he had no choice," Sam grinds out, slapping his palm on the table. 

Gabriel slices the air with a hand. "Either way, you've gotten shockingly little return for your investment, and yet you..." A little wiggle of his head and a darting glance precedes an affected shrug. "You... care about him?"

_I love him._

The words are there. On the tip of Sam's tongue. Like always. But he can't say them. Not yet. He just... can't. His throat fights against him as he swallows them down and stares at the little lines of tension around Gabriel's mouth. Stares at the dampness on his forehead, shiny in the diner's light. Watches him drum fingers on the table real quick before taking back his hand and hiding it under the table.

Sam's head catches up with his heart.

Gabriel is... _nervous._

There's a mask of indifference trying to hide away everything he feels like... like the wall his angel always kept up between him and his real emotions. But just like that wall, his mask is imperfect. His eyes--His eyes give him away. They're so fucking sad. There's... fear, and--

Fuck. 

Still, the words stay trapped in Sam's body. He can't say them like this. Not like this. But that doesn't mean he can't tell him the truth.

"I do." Gabriel blinks at him, turning his head and arching his eyebrows like he's skeptically asking, _Really??_ So Sam answers him. "I do. Gabriel, the-the care I feel for him is worlds away from anything I ever felt for any other man or woman. I... _care_ for him so much it hurts."

Gabriel’s gives him would be amusing in any other situation, scanning him up and down, his lips pursed. Sam doesn't mind at all, though, he smiles in fact, pushing the truth of his words. 

A small lock of golden blond falls across Gabriel's forehead when he tilts his head in acquiescence, a mirroring smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It's cute. It's way too cute, and Sam knuckles the edge of the table, resisting the urge to climb across it and kiss him. "Well, that's your prerogative," Gabriel says.

Their eyes meet. It shouldn't feel as electric as it does. The growl of Gabriel clearing his throat should snap Sam out of it but it barely even registers. They've literally been staring into each other's eyes since the second Gabriel walked up to Sam, so why this time do shivers crawl up his spine? Why this time does it feel like Gabriel is gravity? The problem is, Gabriel's expression has shifted from cute to... His eyes are darker and he's staring at him like he's a butterscotch sundae.

Gabriel clears his throat--again--except this time, he looks away and Sam suddenly realizes he's leaned forward as far as the table will let him--and his hand his slid in the sweat from his glass of water. Grimacing, he grabs a handful of napkins from the dispenser and mops it up, setting his glass on another as a makeshift coaster.

"Okay," Gabriel says, clearing his throat for a third time. "Okay, so maybe... maybe, as you said, your angel boy couldn't come back," he suggests, his eyes sliding towards him. "Maybe these... what did he call them? 'Douche nozzles'? Maybe these Douche Nozzles locked him away until they reached their... verdict."

Sam's heart rate kicks up a beat. Gabriel is suggesting something, he's--he's dancing around something. "Before they reached their verdict?" he questions. "That would explain why he’s been gone. But what would this 'verdict' be?" he asks carefully. They're getting closer, closer to the truth, to whatever Gabriel _is_. 

He watches as he punches his lips out speculatively, giving him a side glance. "Maybe they told him... um, I dunno." Fingers _scritch-scritch_ at the back of a golden head. A nervous gesture. Gabriel's presence had been large, even as he sat in silence, muttering or nodding occasionally, as Sam told his story, but now the booth seems to swallow him up. 

He's trying to tell Sam where he's been, what the fuck is going on, but he's... scared. Air rushes through Sam's nose and fills his lungs before escaping through O-shaped lips. _Calm the fuck down._

"Gabe," Sam whispers. His head snaps up, a little tension easing from his body at just the sound of his name.

"'Gabe,'" he smiles. "I like that."

A surprised huff of a smile finds Sam's face. "Not the most original--"

Gabriel shakes his head to cut him off. "It's perfect, St--Sam." Pink lips seal themselves shut. _Stargazer,_ his mind breathes. _Was he going to call me...?_

Sam blinks his eyes and shakes the thought. He might not be able to stop his heart from racing at every single thing his angel--his... Gabriel--does, but he can get himself to concentrate. "Gabe, it's okay. Whatever happened--or-or you know, whatever you think _may_ have happened, it's okay. Just tell me."

"Well," Gabriel breathes. "I was just--I was just thinking," he says, continuing the game. Even sitting upright he still looks a little hunched, but he levels Sam with his gaze and goes on. "I thought that maybe they gave him a little bit of time and an ultimatum… a choice."

“A choice.” The oxygen in this place seems suddenly thin. "Choice?”

"Yeah. Maybe they told him, since he cared about humans so much he could see how he likes being one. Maybe they--uh--stripped him of his powers, took nearly every bit of his grace so he was for all intents and purposes, human. M-Maybe they told him… that he would have three nights as a mortal, and then he could decide."

He is… Is this real?... Mortal... Sam searches Gabriel's face. No wings. No powers. He is--He’s _mortal._ The confusion he’d been struggling with since he looked up into the eyes of his angel and didn't understand, dissipates into mist. This explains everything, why he’s here, why he looks the same, why he has no wings… Gabriel is his angel.

_Gabriel is his angel._

"D-Decide?" he chokes out.

"Either," Gabriel explains, "after the three days, he returns to heaven, gets his powers back, his wings, and lives for eons. But... another angel is assigned to protect his human and he's forbidden from ever seeing him again. Or..."

Pain stabs in Sam's chest. Another angel? Never seeing Gabriel again? No, no, no, he doesn't fucking want that. But there had been more, another option. "Or?" Sam gasps, desperate, his knuckles aching where he’s squeezing the table.

"Or…” Gabriel’s tongue flicks over his lips. Nervous. “He remains a human, with no powers and a short human life, and no guardian protects the man that he's... he's... _Sam_..." He doesn't say it, he doesn't say anything at all, but the emotion twisted up in the breath of his name is _so much._

Everything whites away, color leaching from their surroundings until it's all blank white space, and it's just him and Gabriel and the rasp of breath between his lips. 

"--elloo? Guys?" Sam startles from his trance and looks up at a waitress standing beside their table with raised eyebrows. She's not the same one who brought Sam's salad but she's obviously talking to them. If the reddening of her cheeks and the smirk she's wearing are anything to go by, she's somewhere between embarrassed and amused. "Sorry to interrupt whatever that was, fellas, but I'm afraid the diner closed about fifteen minutes ago."

Sam blinks. "It-It did?" He scans past her and notes chairs on tables and a half mopped floor on the other side of the restaurant. Aside from another waitress studiously refilling salt shakers the three of them are the only ones there. Darkness spills from the window beside them, a traffic light blinking from red to green and letting a single car through, probably on its way home.

"Oops," Gabriel mutters.

How did he not even notice they'd been here for hours already? With an apology on his lips, he pays his bill and leaves a generous tip before unwinding his stiff legs and tugging on his discarded jacket. He follows Gabriel into the cold night air and tucks his hands in his pockets on the sidewalk as the waitress locks up behind them.

For a second he freezes, not sure where to go or what do do, and looks to Gabriel. He's not used to this, to having him literally standing beside him. 

"Well then," the angel says. His shoe scuffs the pavement. There's a tense crease in his eyes when he smiles. "It's gotten late on us, huh? I'll get outta your hair so you can get home."

Wait.

Wait, what?

"You're leaving?" 

"I..." Gabriel looks sort of uncertain, hands in pockets, gaze unlevel. "Yeah," he answers, with half a shrug. "I figured that's what you wanted."

"Gabriel..." Words die on Sam's tongue. The lights in the diner flicker, the front ones shutting off to discourage anyone from knocking, though the the few remaining employees still move around inside, finishing closing. Sam glances around, then tugs Gabriel to the side of the building where there's a wide alley between streets. It isn't much more private, but it's better than standing there on the sidewalk. He puts Gabriel against the wall and he just-just eyes him for a minute. 

He's ninety percent sure, but he needs to confirm it. He needs... He needs to make _sure_. So the space between them gradually narrows. Gabriel's back finds the wall and Sam boxes him in until his head is tilted back to look it up at him. And then he gets closer. He puts his hands on his shoulders and breathes his air. "Gabriel," he says. "Gabriel." His skin is warm, just like Sam remembers it, when he drops his head down and presses their foreheads together. It practically radiates from his body, spreading through Sam's fingers, heating his chest, and Sam comes _closer_. His palms drag over the collar of Gabriel's shirt before cupping his neck and sliding up his jaw, fingers wrapping around his face, and he inhales the scent of clean air and cut grass and sweetness, underlaid with a gentle musk that's all Gabriel's own. "Gabriel," he breathes, and Gabriel's mouth parts, drawing in oxygen like a dying man. A hand snags in his shirt, but he doesn't do anything else, just lets Sam touch him, hold him. "You're mine, aren't you? My angel. _My angel,_ " he repeats. "Y-You're him. You're mine. My Gabriel?"

There's the soft rush of cars streets across town and a far and distant wail of a siren, just detectable in the quiet. And there's Gabriel breathing shared air. His fingers twist a little tighter in Sam's shirt, and he nods against his forehead. Finally his voice breaks the silence. "Yes. Yes, Stargazer. I'm here. I'm so--" his voice breaks. "I'm so damn sorry, for everything."

Sam makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper and his head drops to his angel's shoulder, and he just--he hides there, burying his nose in the space between neck and collar and wrapping his arms around shoulders. His chest vibrates, and if he could purr he knew he’d be fucking doing it because his angel is back, he’s back. He’s okay--for now--and he’s here, oh god.

Dropping all pretense of self-control, Gabriel grabs Sam up in his arms, the hard rocks of fisted hands knuckling just under Sam's shoulder blades. When he’s all wrapped up, Gabriel makes a wounded sound high in his throat. He nuzzles against Sam's head on his shoulder, pressing up into Sam's body. "S-Stargazer. Stargazer. Fuck, you can't even guess how much I missed you, you gorgeous creature." His voice is low and rough in Sam's hair, and it's the weirdest, most amazing thing to have him _in Sam's arms_ , talking to him, speaking words, and Sam--fuck--God, he can't help the way he claws at him, digs his fingers in his shoulders and scritches his nails over the slick material of his coat.

"Yeah, yeah I have some idea, angel," his voice cracks on _angel,_ and swallows back some of the tremors. "I was so worried about you. I thought I'd never see you again." He presses his nose into the warm flesh of Gabriel's neck.

"I know. I know. I'm a crap guardian to you, Stretch. I'm so sorry. The fuckers locked me up and I couldn't do a damn thing."

"It's not your fault. Not your fault." Sam shakes his head and eases back from Gabriel. Shadows are fighting for space on Gabriel's face in the darkened streets, but he can still make out the glimmer of his eyes and shape of his face, and Sam twists his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

Eyebrows punch together as Gabriel shakes his head in wonder. "You forgive me too easy. You're too darn good to me, Sam. You _always_ have been. When are you going to learn I ain't worth it?"

"On the day you stop coming back to me." He shakes his head. "Who am I kidding?" he asks the air. "Not even then."

Gabriel's breath rushes from his lips. He lifts a hand, tentatively--no, reverently. It almost tickles, how featherlight he brushes his knuckles across Sam's cheek, but Sam leans into the touch and Gabriel spreads his hand across his face. " _Sam,_ " he whispers, and it sounds so much like the breathed rendition of his name that first time his angel crawled into bed behind him, sorrowful and filled with so much care, Sam's heart lurches at it. He has to close his eyes for a second.

When he opens them again Gabriel is closer. Sam is bent over enough that Gabriel can brush their lips together without stretching very far. So he does, Sam lets him, he breathes through his nose and feels Gabriel brush across his cheek like he's the most fragile precious thing he's ever held. And then he does it again, kissing him with untold realms of gentleness and feeling and turns his head and kisses him a third time. Sam's lips part on a soft sound, and while Gabriel doesn't heat the kiss, it becomes a little wetter, a little deeper, Gabriel's lips firm and sure, pressing into his.

When he pulls back, Sam's knees feel soft, his head hazy, and their foreheads are pressed together again. 

"Jesus..." Gabriel swears, breathing soft, panting breaths against Sam's mouth. 

Happiness glows in Sam’s chest. He has his angel here, with him, finally. It's not perfect; they need to--they need to talk, but for right now, just this very minute, Sam is going to let himself _have this_. He leaves his eyes closed, their foreheads together, and smiles. Tugging at Gabriel's arms, he finds his hands and he entwines their fingers. "Wanna go to the park with me?"

There's a puff of of breath across his face as Gabriel laughs, a smile in his voice when he asks, "Right now?"

Sam's lips quirk. He honestly doesn't know why, but there's a million things he's always wanted to do with his angel, and going to the park is one of them. "Yeah," he breathes. "Why not? Want to?"

Gabriel chuckles, a light in his eyes as he looks at him. "Because it's freakin' weird to go to a park in the cold in the middle of the night? But yeah. If it's with you, Moose, hells yeah I want to go."

Sam's insides light up like he hasn't felt in... god, so long. There's been this terrible weight dragging him down for a week, and like magic--it's gone. He fucking has his angel back. _He has him back._ Everything else can wait.


	7. Chapter 7

With their bare fingers laced together in the cold air, they start in the direction of the park, not exactly the wrong way in relation to Sam's apartment, but not getting any closer to it either. That's okay. Had Sam been on his own, sure, he probably would have called an Uber, but tonight, with Gabriel beside him, he feels like walking. The chill bite of the air in his lungs almost feels good and he sucks it up in lungfuls, trading glances with his angel every other second. 

At first they don't talk much, gripping each other's hand and catching each other looking. Twice Gabriel looks up at Sam while he's staring at him, and he gives him this smile and Sam just heats right the fuck up to his roots and ducks down like a schoolboy. He's literally never been this way with anybody else before and he doesn't know why he's acting like such a blushing moron right now.

"Damn, you're cute," Gabriel says, the _first thing_ he says since they started towards the park, and Sam's cheeks just get all that much hotter. His body swings into Gabriel, making him stumble a step or two before finding his balance and continuing to walk with Sam's face buried in his neck.

" _Gaaabe,_ " he breathes. A happy laughs rumbles through his angel's chest, and he squeezes his hand a little tighter between their close bodies.

"If you want me to take it back I'm afraid you're gonna be disappointed, _mi estrello_."

"I just..." Sam breathes in the musky scent behind the sweetness of Gabriel. "I can't take the way you look at me."

"Oh, no, that's just my normal face. Shocking, I know--" Gabriel is cut off when Sam shoves him, and the self-deprecating joke dies in laughter.

"Don't you dare," Sam scolds.

"It was a joke, Samuel," Gabriel laughs. "I know you can't verify this, but take my word for it when I tell you every single angel in heaven was jealous of my good looks." Even in the dim streetlight Sam can make out the way he wiggles his eyebrows, and he can't stop the amused chuckle that spills from him at the sight. He knew his angel was _snarky_ , but to see it.

"That's better," he huffs.

"Oh, whenever you need me to shoot a line for the Gabe-a-nator, you just let me know!" Gabriel throws a wink at him, and Sam shakes his head in amusement, his heart soaring. After he presses a kiss to his cheek, their voices seem suddenly to be found. 

Mostly, they find themselves talking about their surroundings, the shops and little cafes and businesses in this part of the city, Sam pointing things out and Gabriel reminding him just how much he was there by inserting (usually inappropriate) entendres or memories into each one.

("Oh, this store has the most amazing collection of vinyl. I once found a really rare record by one of Dean's favorite bands. He plays it all the time."

"You also found that cute punk kid's dick."

"Oh--god--"

"I swear I didn't watch you suck him off behind the 70's rock rack--"

"J-Jesus. Gabriel!"

"Much. I wonder what happened to that kid?"

"I don't know! "

"Considering the ink all over him, maybe he became a tattooist. Oh, that would be cool! Think he's downtown?"

"Uh..."

"We should check it out. Wouldn't that be neat? Catching up with old friends, getting 'Angel's Boy' tattooed right over your--"

" _Gabe!_ "

"Joking, jeez. We'd totally put it somewhere visible.")

The walk to the park passes in _seconds_ , and by the time they're crossing the track and heading straight for the swings, Sam's lungs hurt from laughing and the cold is completely burnt off by his blushing. Gabriel is like the embodiment of wisecracks and innuendo. To someone who wasn't paying attention, he might seem self amusing and careless, except Sam sees how he nervously relaces their fingers after an offhand joke that clearly didn't go the way he meant it. He sees him whisper _Sorry_ with anxiety in his eyes and the way tension leaves his shoulders when Sam brushes it off and starts making jokes back. He sees the way he steadies when Sam kisses his cheek. He sees the way his eyes sparkle every time Sam laughs, and he sees the way he changes the direction of the conversation any time he senses even a modicum of real discomfort. His entire attention is focused on Sam, and he's... he seems to be just as nervous and happy as he is.

The playground is technically closed after eight, but this isn't the first time Sam's sneaked out here later than that. Fortunately for them, the fence is angular but smooth on top for the protection of the kids so it's easily hopped over. 

"So, it my job here to push you on one of these things?" Gabriel asks as they come up on the swings.

"Nope, you've got that backwards. I get to push you." The cold metal of the chain presses into Sam's free hand as he grins at Gabriel. 

"Oh, my sexy Sam, you can push me around any time." With a wink, he moves to settle into the swing, but Sam can't help tugging him in for a kiss first. The second their lips brush together, they have a hard time not grinning, and with a laugh, they separate, Gabriel to the swing, Sam behind him. "Now I've seen these in operation and they look pretty simple, but I've never used one so I might need you to show me just how it's done oh wise and worldly one." Blinking back at him with practically a halo hovering around the crown of his head, Gabriel looks cherubic in his innocence, and Sam laughs. He doesn't believe for a second Gabriel needs any help with this, but if he wants to play this game, then Sam will happily play it.

Covering Gabriel's hands on the chains with his own, he leans in closer and speaks low. "You see, you want to hold on tightly like this."

"Mm-hm?" Gabriel hums. 

"And then you set your feet and push back." Gabriel does such, and with Sam cocooned around his back, Gabriel pushes right into his body. Fortunately his ass doesn't quite meet up with the most interesting part of Sam's anatomy, but he's close enough for his dick to notice anyway.

"Like this?" Gabriel asks sweetly. The welcome warmth radiating from him doesn't help matters, but, again, two can play at this game. 

"Oh, yes, Gabe, just like that." His voice comes out husky right at Gabriel's ear. He knows his warm breath is ghosting over the sensitive skin in the cold night air, and he relishes in the shiver he elicits, tripping down Gabriel's spine. Moistening his lips, he breathes, "You're going to push in and out and in and out. I'm going to work with your rhythm, and when you reach your apex, you're going to feel like you're flying and falling all at once. It's going to feel _so good_ , Gabe."

"O-Oh. Jesus," Gabriel chatters, his teeth clacking together. The hands beneath Sam's twist on the chains, biting into the metal. "That sounds... rigorous."

A chuckle rumbles low from his throat. Sam hums. "Oh, it can be. But we're going to start slow and gentle and work up to hard and fast, okay?"

"S-Sounds goo--" The noise Gabriel makes can only be compared to a squeak when Sam tugs back on the chains without warning and lets Gabriel go. The swing jostles a bit as Gabriel tightens his grip on the chains and hurriedly pushes his legs out before pulling them in again on the downswing. Laughter still on his lips, Sam plants his hands on Gabriel's lower back and pushes him a second time.

Once he gets a good rhythm, he claims the swing beside him. It doesn't take more than a few beats before he's matched Gabriel in reverse tandem, the metal polls holding the set up shaking dangerously as two adult men swing high and fast at the same time. The _liberating_ feeling of flying in the wind, the ground rushing beneath his feet and his hair blowing around his face is the most joyful sensation he's felt in... _ages_. And he laughs. And god... when was the last time he laughed like that? Free, wild, careless…

He rockets past Gabriel and sees a flash of white with his grin and Sam yells that it's been too long since he's done this. Gabriel agrees and hoots at his peak when he whips by. 

For a while they just swing, being too loud in a closed park in the middle of the night and not even giving a single fuck, and it's the most fun Sam's had in... possibly ever. He shuts his eyes and feels the wind rush across his face and thinks, _I have my angel back._

Eventually they slow to a lazy roll before scraping their shoes on the padded playground flooring and coming to a stop. They catch their breath in comfortable silence, listening to the soft breeze through the trees and the distant _rush_ of late night roamers on the expressway. 

"I came here the same night I rented my apartment.” Sam leans his head on the chain. "I figured if I couldn't have a dog in my apartment, I could walk to the closest park and read while dogs chased after one another nearby." He tilts his head, realizing. "I never really did that. I guess I was too busy? I guess I was too busy. But somehow I still found my way here a few times, usually late at night, to do just this." When he looks at Gabriel he sees him watching intently, clearly listening to every word he speaks. The soft breeze blows a few strands of hair across his forehead as the moonlight paints him in creamy soft light. "Except then, I was alone." No, that's not quite right. "Well, not alone really," he corrects with a twitch of his lips. "I wasn't often alone."

Gabriel turns his head, his lips not moving to match Sam's smile. "Except the angel watching over you was too cowardly to sit in the swing beside you."

"Gabe..." Sam reaches for him behind the chain of his swing. Gabriel meets him halfway, their fingers tangling together to hang between them. "You are not a coward, Gabriel. You did far more with me and for me than you were ever supposed to do. You are brave."

It's too dark to see the caramel of Gabriel's eyes, but Sam can still make out his eyes in the moonlight. The way they shift over Sam's face. The way they fill with unspoken things. "I wish I would have done more. I should have kissed you a long time ago."

All Sam knows is that Gabriel is gravity. All he knows is Gabriel is everything-- _everything_ \--Sam has ever wanted, ever dreamed of. He's _more_. All he knows is, he wants to kiss that into his lips until he never doubts how amazing he is ever again. 

Unfortunately, the swing has other ideas. They're close enough to share air when Sam's butt suddenly slips. It's just a little, but with him leaning so precariously and utterly off balance, he completely loses control. Eyes widening, he instinctively grabs right on to Gabriel, and that means that they're both going down. 

One minute, he's staring into the eyes of the love of his life, getting ready for a kiss full of passion, the next minute his back hits the ground and he's staring up at the sky, his legs hammocked in the swing he'd just slipped out of. There's one silent moment of disbelief (Gabriel in the exact same situation next to him, their hands still tangled together between them), while Sam looks wide-eyed at Gabriel. And then Gabriel's eyes scrunch up and his teeth flash white, and they're laughing. Not just laughing, full-bellied, clutching at their stomachs, heads thrown back, _can't breathe, oh god, can't breathe,_ laughing. He has no idea what the fuck is wrong with them, but for some reason this is the funniest thing that's happened all damn year, and every single time he thinks he's caught his breath, Gabriel gives him _this look,_ and he loses it all over again. 

"Oh my god," he pants, dragging in lungfuls of air, tears in his eyes. "I haven't laughed that hard in way too long." 

"That's because you haven't heard any of my dick jokes yet. The punchlines are all explosive." Gabriel makes a _ba-dum-tss_ sound, and Sam snorts. He and Dean should get along just fine. If they even get a chance to meet. Frowning, Sam shirks the dark thought. He’s not ready to face the eventuality of Gabriel's decision, so he looks up at the black sky stretching above them instead. It's a bit hazy from the lights of the city, but they're in a dark part of town and dozens upon dozens of stars still wink at them from above. 

"You can see Cygnus right there," Sam says, pointing out the brightest constellation in the night sky. "Did you know _Cygnus_ is Latin for swan so saying 'Cygnus the Swan' is redundant?"

"Is that so, my Stargazer?"

"The star Deneb, or the Swan's head, is both the biggest and brightest in the constellation."

"Mmm..." Gabriel hums. Something in his voice brings Sam's eyes down again to find him watching him. His expression is soft, the corner of his lips curling just a little. The realization that Sam has already told him all of this probably more than once from his window makes heat flare in his cheeks.

"I've already told you all of this, haven't I?"

Gabriel's smile grows. "I've forgotten. Tell me again."

Sam huffs a laugh and drags his legs from their perch in the swing and set his feet on the ground, knees bent. "My hobby is boring to most people," Sam admits thinking of the times Dean rolled his eyes or stuck earphones in without Sam immediately noticing and continued nodding seriously as if he were listening. The jerk.

"Nothing about you is boring," Gabriel contradicts. "And I've never gotten to watch your face as you tell me, which means I've been missing out on at least half of the experience." Planting his free arm beneath his head, Gabriel wiggles like he's getting comfortable and then looks at him. "Tell me more."

"You sure you want to hear?" Sam breathes.

"Utterly and completely."

Grinning, Sam says alright and points at the next one he spots. It's Pegasus. He tells Gabriel what he knows about it, the little tidbits and random facts about its origin and various stars in its construction, and then points out a few more. Gabriel listens the entire time he talks, only occasionally inserting a comment and usually making Sam laugh, but otherwise, he's content to listen. 

Once Sam's voice has trailed away and his hand has dropped onto his stomach, they just stargaze for a while, until the rubber padding of the playground is starting to feel far too comfortable and the chill night air is seeping through his clothes. Gabriel must notice the tremor that's started working through his shoulders when he says, "It's getting late. We should get you home."

He is undeniably tired. For a week he has been sleeping fitfully or not at all, running, and then throwing himself into work, and now that the thrill, relief, joy, and simple adrenaline have simmered down into contentment, it's catching up with him. "You're probably right," he sighs. 

"Come on, I'll help you up." Once Gabriel climbs upright and makes comments about his butt falling asleep and that Sam could help pound some life back into it, he tugs him to his feet. He's so suddenly tired that he just drapes himself over his angel for a minute or two while Gabriel makes happy sounds, runs his hands up and down his back to warm him, and holds him upright. "Come on, Dozing Beauty, we better go before I have to consider carrying you, not to say I wouldn't do it, but no more angel strength means I would be much less graceful about it."

"Mmph," Sam grunts into his neck grumpily but pushes himself up. This time he does send for an Uber (fortunately some late night driver was available to pick them up) and they take the short drive to Sam's apartment building. Once they're outside, and the driver is disappearing around the corner, Gabriel's grip on Sam's hand (they've hardly let go of each other since the diner) loosens. 

"So..." Gabriel begins a millisecond before Sam was about to turn and lead them inside. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

Sam's mind whites in confusion. "What?" Never for a second did he think Gabriel wouldn't want to come up with him. That he'd have to let their tangled hands uncurl and watch him walk away... Fear tightens his stomach, and he clenches harder to Gabriel's hand as if that will prevent him from leaving.

"I-I know you have to work--and you're going to be tired after we stayed out so late," Gabriel stutters, his voice picking up speed. "And, fuck--" he drags his hand through his hair. "I don't really have any money to take you out properly, but I'd really like to spend more time with you, like this, ya know, before--" He freezes, the thought of the decision he has to make stopping his stuttering in it's tracks. He presses his lips together and does this half shrug with one shoulder. "Before."

Woah, woah, woah, wait, he thinks Sam's working when his angel is here and he might only have--

Sam takes in a breath. 

"Angel," he says. "I'm not going to work for the next few days. I'm going to call in and tell them I have a... family emergency or something."

For a second those butterscotch eyes fill with relief, but then it's gone and Gabriel's shaking his head. "Sam, you can't call in this late, and you can't not go to work just because I'm--” he breaks off and starts again. "Unexpectedly calling out of work for three days? Nuh-uh, you could lose your job, and that's not happening on account of me."

"Gabe.” But then he doesn't even know where to start, so he drags his hands up and cups Gabriel’s face and says his name again. "Gabriel... I know the future is... uncertain, and we'll have to talk about it--and we will--but while you're here and you want me, I'm not wasting a single second apart from you. I really doubt I'll be fired, but even if I am, so fucking what. I'll get another job. I won't get another chance to spend these days with you."

Gabriel lets out a harsh, strangled breath. He drops his head to Sam's chest and lets him thread his fingers through his hair. Cool silky strands weave between his fingers and the ever present warmth of Gabriel's body soothes Sam's soul like nothing else, and he settles his chin on top of his head, breathing out a sigh almost as deep as Gabriel's had been.

"Now… Are you going to come up to my apartment and hold me in your arms while we sleep or am I going to have to fight with you on that one too?" Sam thinks the burst of warmth on his chest is from a laugh. Certainly the smile on Gabriel's face and the glitter of his eyes when he looks up at him implies it. 

"I'll let you win that one."

"Psh, 'let me.' As if you ever really had a chance." Gabriel grins and locks his hands together behind Sam's back.

"Let a man have his pride."

He's so close and staring up at Sam with those eyes, he's completely losing his ability to think. The exhaustion definitely puts him at a disadvantage, and it's completely unfair. "I'd rather just kiss it better," he quips, which was definitely not what he intended to say, but... that works.

It's just light enough in front of the apartments that Sam can make out the way Gabriel's eyes darken at the suggestion, and it has arousal curling dangerously in his stomach. "Then kiss me."

Even if he had the desire to Sam doesn't have the willpower to resist that temptation. So he puts a hand on Gabriel's cheek and draws him in to meet his lips. Gabriel breathes out, warm against his cheek as they just feel each other for a second, warm and chaste. But Gabriel's lips are soft and Sam can't resist him. There's a delicious bundle of _want_ that tugs at Sam as he turns and kisses him again, wetter. The delicious sound of Gabriel's small, wordless moan has delight and pleasure warming him to the tip of his fingers. He shouldn't because he knows he'll lose himself if he does, but he licks past his lips and moans, tasting sweetness and _Gabriel_.

Like he knew he would, he completely loses himself in Gabriel's mouth and doesn't know when he would have come to his senses had Gabriel not pulled away, gripping Sam's arms to keep just a few inches between them. His hair a little askew, his face flush. They're both panting for breath. "As much as I want to keep making out on your doorstep--and believe me, I do--you're giving me a--" he glances down at his pants, and Sam follows his gaze to discover an obvious tent beginning to show. His heart actually stops for a second with the overwhelming rush of arousal that floods to his cock. He clenches, licks his lips.

_He's turned on. He's turned on by me._ The number of times Sam had imagined going beyond sleeping those nights Gabriel was with him, the number of times Sam jacked himself in his shower with his angel in his thoughts... Sam shuts his eyes and tilts back his head, trying to get oxygen to his brain and cut off the rush of blood downwards.

"--a bit of a problem," Gabriel continues. "And we should probably stop and get inside before I need to.... humm... take some personal time in your shower."

_Oh god._ Gabriel naked and wet, eyes screwed shut, forehead against the tile of Sam's shower, chanting his name while he jerks himself off. The image does absolutely _nothing_ to help the growing tightness of Sam's jeans. "Fuck," he sighs. _Think of something else. Think of something else_. "Okay," he hisses, suddenly so very much awake. "Right," he breathes. Gabriel nods quickly, eyes distinctly averted from either of their crotches. They separate completely so Sam can turn away and jump up the steps to type in his code to get into the building. It takes him staring at the numbers for a ten solid seconds and blinking rapidly before he can remember the code he memorized the second day he moved here.

The ride on the elevator standing two feet apart from one another and glancing at each other in their peripheral vision doesn't help much, but Sam still reaches out a hand and they curl their pinky fingers together.

"Okay," Sam says, strangely nervous as he unlocks the door to his apartment and lets Gabriel in. The sound of Maanen running furiously on his hamster wheel greets them as they cross the threshhold, but, as if hearing them, it dies off a second later. Sam briefly wonders if he's hiding in his nest at the scent of a stranger, and then focuses again. "Okay," he repeats. "Kitchen," he gestures. "There's water, fruit, various other foods and drinks in the fridge if you get hungry. Living room," he points at the space the open kitchen is on one side of. There's a couch and couple of chairs, a large window that doesn't open, and on the wall between the kitchen and bedroom door are his two hamster cages on a shelf and the larger terrarium for Vega underneath. "And the bedroom, bathroom just beyond." His keys clang as he drops them into the bowl just inside the door.

"Funny, I've never actually been in this part," Gabriel says, glancing around and then zoning in on the arrangement of photographs on the wall on the other side of the door. He smiles softly at a black and white one of Sam and his brother when they were kids. Dean's arm is wrapped around him, and they're both clearly muddy from playing outside, but they're grinning, bright and happy.

"If you want you can introduce yourself to Vega, Maanen, and Rigel. I'm going to go, ah, change and brush my teeth and find some things for you to use." 

He licks his lips as Gabriel looks across the room at his hamsters and turtle and says, "I've heard so much about them I feel we're practically friends already."

His eyes twinkle when he looks back at Sam, and Sam looks at him, standing in his apartment. Gabriel. In his apartment. Possessiveness rushes through him and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s crossed to Gabriel and brought him in for a kiss. Lips melt against his, willing and wanting and returning the heat in equal measure. It's him who pulls back this time, fighting against the desires of his body. "Fuck, I love having you here, Gabe. I love--" he cuts himself off. The words are there, but they just… they just aren't ready to be said. Or, maybe it's Sam who isn't ready. Isn't sure Gabriel will be here when he wakes up tomorrow. "I love having you here," he repeats.

A smile crinkles Gabriel’s eyes. “I love being here.” He presses a little kiss just to the side of his lips.

"Make yourself at home," he says as he backs away and pulls the door to his room.

In relative privacy for the first time, he takes just a second to breathe and run his hands through his hair, and then hurriedly neatens up the space, blushing the whole time at how idiotic he is--it's his angel, he won't care if there's a shirt on the floor or the bed's more rumpled and less neatly made up than usual. Sam's had a rough week after all. Still, he can't help himself, inexplicably nervous. Not badly or anything, but enough to force himself to take a few deep breaths. "Come on. This is not the first time he's slept in the same bed with you."

_Yeah, but it's different this time._

He cuts off his traitorous thoughts by finding himself and Gabriel some pajamas and then changing clothes in the bathroom. He uses the toilet, washes his face, brushes his teeth, and finds a spare toothbrush for Gabe, setting it and the pajamas on the counter for him, before he returns to the living room. 

Gabriel stands from a crouched position in front of Vega when he comes through the door, and for a second Gabriel seems to lose the words that were on the the tip of his tongue when his eyes widen and his gaze drifts down Sam's body. He's wearing a t-shirt and blue flannel pajamas--nothing special, but Gabriel's looking at him like he's the next pole dancer at the club in nothing but leather straps and lingerie. "Uh," Sam mumbles. "There's pajamas and a toothbrush in the bathroom for you," he manages to say. Gabriel's eyes jerk back up to his, pink painting across his cheeks. 

"Oh. Right. Good," he grunts.

"I'm, uh, just going to... feed the pets while you're..." He waves his hand at the bathroom in a vague gesture, failing at words, but Gabriel nods getting it.

"Totally. Okay. Be right back."

Their bodies get way too close and Gabriel looks up into his eyes as he passes him before shutting himself in the bathroom. Sam blinks at the closed door before dragging a hand down his face. "I'm acting like a horny teenager. Get yourself under control." He wants Gabe. He wants him so much, but... he's... honestly, he's physically, mentally, and emotionally _exhausted_. The trifecta. The past week was an endless hailstorm on his nerves. And now his angel is back, and he's... so happy (and horny) but _exhausted_. For their first time... Gabriel deserves more than that.

And besides that, his brain--no, his heart still isn't fully convinced that tomorrow he'll wake up and all of this won't have been a torturous dream. A wonderful, wonderful torturous dream.

Shaking his head, he takes his phone from where he left it on the dresser and shoots a few texts off to a specified few of his coworkers. He explains he's ok, but there's a personal matter he can't leave right now, and that he’s got to take a few days off. He begs to be allowed to take his vacation days for a week and promises return favors in the future for anyone who can cover for him. That done, he takes care of his pets real quick, shuts off the lights except for the lamp beside his bed, checks the door, and returns to his room. Gabriel isn't out yet, and he briefly wonders if he ended up taking that shower after all, but he hasn't heard anything except for the sink running, so he sits at the foot of the bed to wait. 

It's barely thirty seconds later the door opens and a stream of light outlines his angel. He glances over at Sam, his chin tilted down, and smiles slightly, and... Yeah, Sam gets why Gabriel had the reaction he did a few minutes ago. The black "ROCK GOD" t-shirt he’s wearing depicts a guitar with wings because Sam couldn't resist, and though it's a little baggy on him in Sam's size, it hugs his shoulders and drapes across his form and is loose enough Sam can't help imagining dipping his fingers underneath it. The dark blue striped pajamas cover his feet, but they're cinched loosely at his waist and they fall down his legs, and the nightwear is by far the least amount of layers Sam has ever seen him in. And he looks… edible.

He swallows and clears his throat when Gabe reaches back and clicks off the bathroom light, leaving them in the soft yellow aura of the bedside lamp.

"Um, is... Do you prefer a side?" Gabriel asks, gesturing at the bed. 

"This side," Sam says immediately, patting the right side of the bed. The left side, nearest the window is Gabriel's side in Sam's mind, so he says as much. "That side is yours."

With an owlish blink Gabriel looks at it, and then past him towards the window, and then back at Sam. "My side."

Like it doesn't mean anything Sam shrugs and nods. "Your side."

"Well ok then," Gabriel's lips twitch as he climbs onto that side and Sam makes his way up the bed, pulls down the sheet and blanket, and climbs in. For some reason it doesn't feel quite right to lay the way he has so many other nights, turned away from Gabriel when he wasn't allowed to open his eyes or look at his face or talk louder than a whisper. He frowns at the ceiling, uncertain.

"Gabe..." he begins slowly, not sure how to explain, but like he can read his mind, Gabriel lays on his back and opens his arms.

"Hold you on my chest?"

Relief rushes through him and he nods. "Yeah. That's... That's perfect." After clicking off the light, he scooches down a little in his extra long queen and rolls onto Gabriel’s deliciously warm chest. He plants his head between pec and shoulder and stretches his arm over Gabriel's waist. Gabriel's arm comes up around him, his fingers curling over his arm, and security wraps around him like seatbelts and buckles in Gabriel's arms. In Gabriel's scent. The sense of of feeling safe like a lockbox of happiness in his chest. And they both let out contented sighs.

"You're right," Gabriel murmurs intimately quiet in the darkness. "This is perfect."

Curling his arm snugger around his waist, Sam hums his agreement. "Where would you have gone?"

"Hm?" Gabriel questions, already sounding sleepy.

"If I hadn't dragged you up here." Sam snuffles against his chest, settling into his arms and breathing in his scent. Sweet musk, airy rain and thunderstorms. A scent he could get high off of…

"Oh… I have no idea. When they dropped me in the city, I had nothing but a handful of odd change in my pocket and a few suckers. I was walking towards your apartment, building up my courage to actually talk to you when I happened to pass by that diner and see you. Pure luck."

Sam frowns, thinking of his angel alone and vulnerable and afraid. He thinks of how all week he's been nowhere but work or here, huddled and alone his apartment, and how he decided to go to that diner right before Gabriel happened to walk by. "Or fate," he can't help but wonder.

"Hmm…” A palm runs up his arm. "While I've been a little rebellious over the years, for a large part of my life I've been playing the role that destiny provided for me." Gabriel’s lips press a kiss on his head. "Except when it comes to you. I've never been able to do things by the book with you. You've always been... different. In so many ways. You made it easy for me to break the rules. You're my wayward path, my disobedience. My free will. That bitch Fate can shove it where the sun don't shine, because with you, Sam, I make my own decisions. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Sam’s heart tumbles over itself in his chest, and, filing away the part about how he's different for another day, he smiles into Gabriel's chest and nibbles at his lips. He's his angel's free will. He likes that. He hums in agreement. "Team Free Will. I'm with you. We'll make our own decisions. Together."

Gabriel's chest rises and falls with his breath, a steady rhythm, a heartbeat _tha-thump tha-thump tha-thumping_ in Sam's ear. It’s a comforting reminder that Gabriel chose to come here with Sam, at least for now.

"Thank you," he says, "for being here with me."

Gabriel's fingers brush across his arm. "Always," he answers, and it feels like a promise.


	8. Chapter 8

A warm ticklish brush up and down his arm has Sam stirring. Sucking in a lungful of air, he rubs a hand down his face but doesn't manage to open his eyes more than a squint. "Gabe?" he slurs, his voice thick and clumsy from sleep. 

"My gorgeous sleeping prince, I'm sorry to wake you, but I think I need to use the little boy's room and I didn't want you to wake up while I wasn't here."

Warmth washes through his chest. The rush of memories he feels make him want to melt right into the warmth behind him. Gabriel is here. Gabriel hasn't disappeared with the rising of the sun. And just like before he seems to have read his mind and the worries he felt because Gabriel is the sweetest, most considerate--"Okay," Sam breathes happily. He gropes the air until it finds Gabe, now behind and spooning him, their positions having shifted in the night, and he grips his hand as he climbs over him. "Be fast," he smiles.

"Like a gazelle," Gabriel quips, amusement in his voice. Their hands slide apart and the faint click of the bathroom door separates them.

Rolling onto his back, Sam rubs his hands down his face and through his hair, trying to rub off the weight of sleep clinging to him. He pries one eye open to look at the glowing blue numbers of the digital clock beside his bed. 8:32. His eyes seal closed again. It's been a while since he's slept in this late, but then again, it's been a while since he's stayed up so late too.

Memories of the night before fill his mind in a puff. Sudden, beautiful, and soft. Kissing Gabriel. Pushing Gabriel on the swing. Taunting Gabriel. 

His dick, which, he suddenly realizes, was already at half mast, gives an earnest twitch at the memories. Heat spreads through his cheeks as he remembers the way Gabe pushed into him, and the words Sam had whispered into his ear. The breathy tone of his voice when Gabriel swore, just before Sam launched him on the swing, laughing at his own audacity. 

In the present, his hands cover his face and he breathes through his fingers.

It had all been a game, sure, but the thoughts those words inspired... The way Gabriel had softly groaned and then stuttered when Sam spoke. The darkness of his eyes when he saw Sam in his pajamas.

There are too many delicious memories and none of them are helping the problem between his legs. And the thing is, the hesitations he felt last night to cross that line, no longer apply. Sam is rested--sure, he's still a little tired from their late night adventures, but he isn't anywhere near to asleep on his feet. And Gabriel is here. He's not a dream, he didn't disappear, he's...

Fuck, but there's still one thing. The dark spot in his mind he's been avoiding. The future two nights from now. The choice... Gabriel's choice. Sam's future.

He could be here forever. Or leave forever.

Fuck. It's so big. And he... he has no idea what Gabriel is thinking. He isn't even sure what _he's_ thinking. I mean, he _wants_ this. Waking up with Gabriel beside him. Sharing one bathroom. Being able to kiss him whenever he wants. Falling asleep on his chest at night. More than anything he wants forever. But can he ask that of Gabriel? Everything Gabriel would have to give up, immortality, power, freedom... Is it too much?

At this moment when his thoughts are fuzzy and his heart is sinking that the bathroom door opens again, a ray of light slicing across the bed before the switch is flicked, plunging the room again into murky morning sunlight, the curtains on the windows sealing the brightness of day beyond. 

And suddenly Sam just really wants his angel. He wants to wrap him in his arms and hold onto him for as long as he fucking can.

"Back like Meniere's disease," Gabriel jokes.

"Gabe," Sam says. Gabriel _hm?'_ s him, but he doesn't say anything else, because he can't possibly voice his thoughts, and Gabriel is already climbing back into bed, so he shakes his head and inches closer to him until he's up on the mattress. After his dark thoughts Sam's boner has flagged considerably, so he wraps his arms around his angel and buries his face in the warm cotton of his shirt without worry. 

"Well, hey there," Gabriel says, his voice having changed from happy to concerned. "I wasn't gone that long, was I?"

"No, I just... wanted to hold you." Sam snuggles in closer, breathing in his scent with a little desperation. Sleep and sweetness and Gabriel's natural heady musk, a little more defined today but no less intoxicating, cling to his body, and Sam inhales him a little desperately. A small snarl of sleep-tangled hair catches on Gabriel's fingers as he combs them through Sam's hair. Gently and without causing the smallest amount of pain, he works them out and continues his generous attentions. For several minutes this goes on in silence, Gabriel correctly sensing Sam's need and giving to him without hesitation.

"Not to complain because, Snuggy Bear, you can hold me any time you want," Gabriel says after Sam's tense shoulders have eased and he's shifted to rest in the hollow of Gabriel's throat. On the next sweep of Gabriel's fingers he brushes the few escaped hairs out of Sam's face. "But I know you well enough to recognize when something's upset you. Want to talk about it?"

No. No, god. I mean, yes, he needs to. Normally he prefers to face problems head on, discuss, and forge on. But suddenly talking about it is the last thing he wants to do. Talking about it will make it real. Talking about it will force him to choose between what's best for Gabriel or what's best for _Sam_ , and he doesn't know if he can make the selfish choice.

When he pushes upright the world spins and black spots crowd fuzzily around the edges of his vision. Once it stills Sam inhales a breath and tugs his lips into a small smile. "I'm gonna use the restroom and then make us some breakfast. Sound good?"

Skin crinkles, eyebrows hunch, and Gabriel lays a palm on his knee. "Sam..."

"Gabe, I'm fine," Sam argues. When that answer clearly doesn't satisfy him, he adds, "Ok, so I just don't want to talk about it. But I'm fine, really. Breakfast sound good?" Gabriel lets him get away with the subject change. Fingers massaging his knee, he smiles, the concern still obvious in his eyes.

"That sounds great." When Sam nods, he grabs his hand before he can get away. "So long as you know you can talk to me about anything..." Gabriel's expression shifts from concern to doubt to sadness so quickly Sam's heart clenches. A little frown tugs at his lips. "I am still me, ya know."

"Oh, Gabe. I know." Sam hates the reservations he put in those eyes. He squeezes his hand and leans down again to press his lips to the underside of Gabriel’s jaw. "You're my angel." An unexpected flash of something hot burns through Gabriel's eyes at that word, and Sam's dick is reminded what it was doing just a few minutes ago.

"Okay." Gabriel murmurs, blinking away the heat as he takes Sam's face and looks into his eyes with a question before kissing him, apparently uncaring of Sam's morning breath. 

"O-Okay," Sam breathes, even a brief kiss leaving him breathless. "Breakfast," he says and almost reluctantly pulls from Gabriel's grip. 

Before he can change his mind and knowing he really does need a minute, he shuts himself in the bathroom and takes care of his needs. He should probably shower, but he doesn't want to make Gabriel wait so he just washes his face with his hands and soap and water and applies a fresh coat of deodorant. His breath smelling of frosty Colgate Total he steadies himself and finally exits the bathroom. Gabriel is no longer in bed and the living room door is open so Sam goes through. 

A little bit of light has been let through the curtains, and Gabriel is stooped over in front of the shelf with Sam's hamsters. When he notices Sam's return, he turns just enough to reveal the furry black and white head of Rigel in the palm of his hands. As Rigel is very particular and tends to bite if anyone other than himself handles him, a jolt of worry draws Sam quickly forward. "Careful," he warns. 

"Oh, don't worry, I won't drop the little guy," Gabriel murmurs, misinterpreting Sam's warning. The panda bear hamster is curiously moving across his palms so Gabriel keeps switching his hands so he never runs out of room. His little nose sniffs and twitches, his cheeks already pouching as if he's gotten some food tucked away in there. That's when Sam notices the bag of baby carrots set on the counter beside the cages. "We're just getting acquainted, Rigel and me."

Sam's heart goes soft in his chest that Gabriel not only remembers the names of Sam's hamsters but which is which. His eyes break from the curious hamster with his tiny paws now holding onto Gabriel's fingers as he sniffs their tips. He watches Gabriel instead. His sweet eyes squint with charmed amusement at the creature in his palms. His lips curl on one side with fondness and Sam's stomach flops because it's... it's absolutely adorable. It's not fair he gets to be that cute and charming with Sam's illegal hamster, and all of sudden all he wants to do is close the gap between them and kiss that smile on his face.

He finds himself closer, suddenly, though he doesn't know when he moved. But he can see Rigel growing impatient with his limited new territory, and as if sensing the same thing, Gabriel draws his arms together so they're connected from wrist to elbow. It only takes Rigel a second to notice, and he saunters up his arms. Gabriel raises him as much as he can in the awkward position and chuckles as the hamster places his paws briefly on Gabriel's chin before turning around and strutting the short distance back to his palms, his tiny hindquarters jutting with each step. Groping for another carrot, Gabe offers it to the little guy and like a baby with a bottle Rigel latches on and starts nibbling, hiding at least most of it in his cheek pouches.

"I've never seen him be so accepting of anybody else," Sam says in awe. "He bites everyone other than me."

"Bribed him," Gabriel smirks, glancing up at him before returning his attention to the mammal. "Couple of carrots through the bars before attempting to pick him up. Seems to have done the trick."

Sam shakes his head slowly. "Do you want to know what my brother calls him? Demon Rat."

Gabriel laughs in stark disbelief. "This little guy?"

"Yup. Because no matter how many grapes and carrots, apple slices, or nuts he attempts to ‘bribe’ him with, Rigel bites him every time he gets close. He's resorted to leaving a five foot space between them at all times."

With the carrot tucked away, Rigel sits back on his heels and starts cleaning the carrot juice off his whiskers.

"You're kidding," Gabriel laughs, watching the hamster.

"Nope."

Gabriel chuckles again. "Maybe I smell like you."

"Maybe?" Sam hums skeptically, wondering at the clear trust his pet is showing him.

"Well, maybe his little animal instinct can just sense I'm in love with his dad.”

It takes a couple of seconds for the words to really register. Like, Sam knows what he said, he heard what he said. He knows what he said. But there's a wall of shock surrounding his brain. A wall of _no way, surely he didn't really mean--_ closed around his heart. Gabriel's looking at him with these wide, surprised eyes and fuck _he really meant it, he really meant it._

"Okay," Gabriel says. His throat works as he swallows. "That was… probably not the best way to say that."

"But you..." Sam starts. He feels his heart pounding and he feels the wall crumbling and his hands are flexing by his sides because he's fucking trying not to grab Gabriel. But he can't have really intended it, right? An angel can't really be... "I mean you... you really--It's okay if you didn't--"

"I meant it," Gabriel interrupts and Sam's heart does this terrifying puttering thing like pulling back a fist before slamming forward because that's what it does next. It slams so hard and fast he didn't know it could thump that much. The edges of his vision start getting fuzzy. "Sam..." 

Gabriel's hand closes gently around Rigel, holding him steady. "Stargazer," his voice is rough, and... and _fuck_. "Is it too much? I-I--"

"No!" Sam exclaims. "Never too much. It means... so much. Gabriel, you don't even know how much that means. I--Would you..." Sam trails off. He hasn't said it back. He feels it, so much, but the words are locked behind his lips, and it isn't fair, what he's about to ask. But it feels like his soul is crying out for Gabriel and he-he needs... He licks his lips. "Would you say it again?"

Gabriel's face smooths as he searches Sam's eyes, Rigel hidden in his palms. "I love you."

He doesn't know what he's going to do until he says, "Gabe. Put the hamster back." Gabriel looks at him for just a second longer, his eyes unguarded and telling fears and longings Sam isn't meant to to see, before turning back to the shelf. His hands are surprisingly gentle even as Sam can see the rest of him tensing and bunching under his clothes. The second Rigel is safely tucked away and the door to the cage is shut and secured Sam's fists twist in that rockband t-shirt and then Gabriel is flush with his body. The only sound is the rasp of their open-mouthed breaths--and Sam's blood pounding in his ears. _They really are chartreuse,_ he thinks, completely distracted by the swirl of green in his angel's otherwise golden eyes. It's his last thought before he kisses him. 

A moan slices the air between them, Gabriel responding instantly. _He loves me._ The heat and pressure of hands at his sides stroking up and down and tugging him in distract him before the wet pressure of a tongue against his lips has Sam dropping his mouth. _Fuck, he loves me._ Sam keens, fingers scrabbling at the nothing collar of Gabe's shirt, pressure building in his skull, the world swaying. His eyes feel hot. 

“ _Gabe_ ," he gasps, his lips released just long enough to get out the plea before his _angel_ is kissing him again--because somehow, he's the one being kissed now, tugged and pulled to Gabriel's whim. Teeth scrape over his bottom lip and then a tongue swirls across it and Gabriel turns his head, just giving Sam long enough to suck in a breath and chant his name before they're connected again.

Heat and blood have been surging downward since... since, damnit, Sam walked in this room and saw Gabriel with Rigel. The little creature in his large palms. The gentle strokes of a finger across his back. The little smile on his lips. Since, _Stargazer... I love you._

The way Gabriel's kissing him now, just as fucking desperate as Sam is for him... Sam doesn't stand a chance. It's like he's tuned in to every moan or whine or pant; every twist of Gabriel's tongue, or press of his lips is purely for the pleasure of _Sam._

He wants Gabriel. He wants him while he has the chance to have him. In three days Gabriel is going to make a choice that could take him away from Sam forever. Why is he waiting? Fuck waiting. He needs him so bad his cock is throbbing and his channel is _aching_. Since his first time bottoming Sam has always been a switch, but with Gabriel... with his angel, he always imagined it this way, especially the first time. Right now all he can think about is the nothing between his cheeks and how much he wants his angel.

"Gabe," he rasps. " _Gabe_. I want you." Saying the words seems to send another rush of blood to his cock because it throbs in his loose cotton pants. He presses his hips against Gabriel to get a bit of friction and relieve the pressure, but the matching hardness of Gabriel against his groin is an electric shock. He steals Gabriel's air as he gasps and then moans. His lips slide wetly against his cheek so he can moan directly in Gabriel's ear. "I want you inside me."

Gabriel's breath is hot on his cheek. "Sam..." 

All this time it's been silent except for the sounds they've been making, so of course Maanen chooses this moment to climb onto his wheel and start running furiously, filling the air with the ratchet and occasional squeak of a hamster wheel. 

It takes Sam out of it for a second, still hard and aching, but a little less crazed, the reality of what's happening right in front of his hamsters suddenly hitting him, and then they're both laughing. Sam's forehead drops to Gabriel's shoulder as he groans, somewhere between annoyed, embarrassed, and still incredibly aroused. The soothing pressure of Gabriel's hands up his back makes everything better. 

The ratchet slows down after a few seconds and then stops. A hot brush is Gabriel's breath against his ear. "Sam," he says. 

It isn't from cold that Sam is shivering, little tremors that work up and down his back and through his fingertips. The brief respite from Maanen's interruption has allowed Sam's feverish mind to cool just enough he doesn't feel like he needs to crawl inside Gabriel's skin and stay there forever, but he's no less hard, his cock throbbing, urging him forward.

The vision of bright, wet lips and _black_ eyes on Gabriel has Sam's toes curling in the carpet. He looks debauched already. He looks _turned on_ , and _god_ , does he want him. Even so, he doesn't realize he's grinding his hard-on on Gabriel's thigh until fingers tighten around his hips, forcing an inch between them, effectively stopping the motion. Gabriel's forehead lands on Sam's chest like that day in the forest. "You're killing me."

"Can't say I'm sorry I have that effect," Sam chuckles, lips pressing into the softness of his hair. But then a thought occurs to him and he frowns. "Unless you don't want to--"

"No, Sam, I want to." Gabriel looks up at him, his eyes wide and sincere, the caramel of his irises pleading to believe him. "Trust me, I want to." He rocks forward just enough for Sam to feel his straining cock against his groin and groan at the feeling of it. 

"Okay." Most of the doubt that aired through him with that thought eases away, but there's still a strand of it around his ribs because why isn't Gabriel kissing him, pushing him against the doorway until they fall through, landing on the bed...?

"We just... don't _have_ to." Gabriel tries to... explain? But it doesn't help. Of course they don't have to... But if he wants to and Gabe wants to...

Seeing that Sam doesn't understand, Gabriel purses his lips, blush coloring his cheeks a little more. "I just don't want you to think..." he tries, "because I said..."

Oh. Oh, fuck--

"Gabe, no." Sam cuts him off with a shake of his head and cups his face in his hands. Damnit. Of course he thinks that. Sam wasn't clear, he just... grabbed Gabriel and... "If I wasn't completely sure I wouldn't have suggested it, believe me. I want to. I want _you_. Gabriel, my Angel." 

Gabriel makes a sound at _my Angel_ and stares up at Sam with eyes that are dilating more by the second. Sam's thumbs sweep across his cheeks, partly in awe, partly to keep himself from capturing Gabriel's lips and losing his train of thought before he's finished.

"I've been wanting you since I woke up--no, so much longer than that, I've been wanting you for years, Angel. But I couldn't have you, and now you're here," Sam sweeps a hand at their surroundings. "In my living room! And then you said..." Sam's voice cracks. "You said..." He just, he can't, so he nuzzles into Gabriel's face until the ridges of their noses are slotted together and they're as close as they can get without kissing. "I've been dreaming of having something like this with you for so long. Never thought I'd get to. What you said means everything to me." He can't explain why he can't say it back yet, even though he feels it, oh god, does he feel it. Their noses bump and nudge, their faces turning, their lips so close but not quite connecting. "I want you. I want you angel--" he barely speaks the words when Gabriel kisses him. Kisses him like he needed that as much as Sam did. Kisses him hard and soft somehow at the same time. Kisses him aching.

"Gabriel," his voice hoarse. There's a question there somewhere even if he isn't sure what he's asking. Like he always seems to, Gabriel knows, though, and he backs Sam up to the door frame.

His harsh pant of breath from his lopsided smile would be a chuckle if he weren't turned on quite so much. "That's good enough for me, Stargazer."

A rush of fondness and mirth spread through Sam's system. It's absolutely mortifying when a hiccup, instead of a laugh, escapes his lips. A blush spreads up his ears, but Gabriel just shakes his head in some form of wonder. "My god you're cute." It really doesn't help his blush, but Gabriel's lips on his is distraction enough. Distraction, that is, until Gabriel starts manipulating him again, every sound he makes turned into a pant, turned into a whine, turned into arousal thrumming between his legs until he's completely forgotten his embarrassment. Gabriel plays him like a harp until his thoughts are filled up with _Angel, Angel, Angel--_

"--Angel," he pants.

Teeth graze his neck, a groan vibrating through his skin. "I love it when you call me that."

"Angel," he repeats. "My _an-gel_ ," the words crack when Gabriel bites the sensitive stretch of skin right between the base of his neck and his clavicle and starts working it with his lips and tongue. Jolts of pleasure, mixed with just a little bit of pain, trickle to his groin, and Sam moans. "B-Bed." _Fuck me._

With a hum of agreement, Gabriel kisses the tingling mark he's left on Sam's throat and lets him slip away, but his reaching fingers find the hem of Sam's shirt and he loses it before climbing onto the bed. He barely turns around when Gabriel is there, pressing him into the mattress and kissing his lips tender. 

The weight and heat of a hard cock lays heavy on Sam's stomach, just above his groin, barely, _barely_ moving, practically twitching through Gabriel's sleep pants, like he's not even aware he's doing it, and it's driving Sam crazy. He wants to feel it, he wants the weight of it in his hand. Fuck, his angel's cock. "Never-Never thought we'd be here," Sam breathes into his angel's mouth, letting his hand drift down his cotton-covered chest to the edge of a waistband that he slides a finger through.

"Neither did I," his angel says. "I never dreamed that this could really--" Moist kisses move down Sam's jaw. "But, christ, did I want it." 

Sam moans, thick and heady, and he finally slides his hand down until he feels Gabriel's heat fill his palm. It's been a while since Sam's done this with a guy and damn, he's missed the feel of it. The weight of a man on top of him, the tight chest, the hardness of him--and god, is Gabriel hard. _That's because of me._ Liquid heat curls in Sam's stomach even as his fingers curl around the thick length of him. "You thought about me?" he asks, feeling Gabriel shudder, his wet kisses sloppier. "You wanted me?"

"A-Angels aren't--Oh god, Sam--" Gabriel cuts himself off, grinding into Sam's palm and biting at his shoulder. "Nng, w-we aren't supposed to have those thoughts, especially, _especially_ not a guardian for his charge," Gabriel's panting as he looks down into his eyes. "But with you... Sam, there was this... thing between us. And I couldn't help myself."

"Mmm." Sam pulls at Gabriel's shirt, and getting the idea, Gabriel falls back on his haunches and tugs it over his head, tossing it somewhere and revealing so much toned skin to Sam's hungry eyes. His fine and soft-looking happy trail wraps around his belly button and ends at the low-riding waist of his sleep pants.

When Gabriel drops back on top of Sam, he's closer this time, _lower,_ so his cock is once again pressed into Sam's stomach, just above his pants, but his elbows hit the mattress, his forearms framing Sam's head, and that puts him low enough for their chests to come together. When he rocks, his cock slides over Sam's stomach and their nipples catch, and the jolts of pleasure have Sam arching into him, his arms coming up to hold him close so he can rock with him.

" _Ooh_ , my sexy Sammich, the things you do to me." Gabriel's raspy, his words whispered, and so, so sincere. The mouth that's parted, gasping air, the intent eyes, framed by stray locks of golden hair, the sliding movement against Sam's body, all of it sends pleasure zinging through his body, and he curls a hand in his angel's hair and tugs him down until their mouths connect. This pained little whimper comes from his angel, and for just a second, Sam jolts, thinking he's hurt him somehow, and then Gabriel's kissing him. Not just kissing him, fucking _kissing him._ Kissing him like this is the first and the last all wrapped into one. Kissing him with a need that makes his skin prickle, his back arch, his hips roll up and back into the heat of Gabriel's ass and groin.

He fucking kisses him dizzy, kisses him crazy, and then trails kisses down his neck. Wet heat mouths over his collar bones and Sam sucks in a breath, saying something like, " _G-Gabe--angel--_ need you--f-fucking! God, angel, _hnngh--_ " 

Gabriel's lips don't stop, leaving wet marks and little patches of red across Sam's chest to his litany of mindless muttering, half of which he isn't even coherent to. Pleasure wraps around him like silken scarves, everything, _everything_ intense with Gabriel like nothing ever has been before.

His lips trail to Sam's belly button where his tongue dips inside and swirls for a few seconds before he slides a finger beneath the waistbands of Sam's pajamas and boxers and sweeps his finger around his waist. Their eyes meet over Sam's torso, a question, even now, on his face, and Sam _eagerly_ nods his consent. Smiling and not looking away, Gabriel places a kiss just below his belly button before sitting up and helping Sam divest himself of his pajama bottoms. 

He assumes Gabriel will come right back up for his boxers, but he doesn't right away. For a second he just stands there at the foot of the bed and lets his eyes rove up Sam's body. He must look a sight, lying spread, flush, hard under the thin material of his boxers, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His well-kissed lips pulse, his entire body tingling with need, the places where Gabriel touched and kissed him suddenly cool without Gabriel's warmth blanketing him. It isn't any surprise that goosebumps spread over his exposed skin and he has to fight off a shiver that's more than the cold.

"Jesus, Star..." Gabriel pants.

The ridge of Sam's teeth dig into his already sensitive lips, but he can't seem to help himself. He licks the taste of Gabriel off of them. "Like what you see?"

The lingering looks up and down his body abruptly end when Gabriel meets his eyes. "'Like' isn't in a realm close to what I feel."

Sam had meant his words as a taunt and, ok, maybe he's just a little in need of reassurance. He's not normally self conscious, but under the eyes of Gabriel, his angel, he needed his ego stroked, just a little. The perfect honest truth in Gabriel's words is like a bolt to Sam's body, baking his insides in warmth. He breathes out. The flicker of doubt is gone.

Gabriel doesn't look away when he leans in, or when he lifts Sam's foot, or when he kisses his ankle, a whisper of breath, a press of lips. He nuzzles that spot before working his way up, kissing the insides of Sam's leg. Slick heat curls at the crack under his knee, shooting pleasure through Sam’s stomach. A smile flashes at him with the sounds he makes and Gabriel lingers there before reaching his thigh and sealing lips to Sam's skin. 

The sheets on Sam's bed are basic cotton and tan like creamed coffee. The thread count was pretty high, not high enough to spoil him but enough that they're smooth and soft in the fisted, twisting grip he has on them. "Ga-abe," he gasps in surprised arousal, the sharp bite of teeth and suction of lips a swirl of numb pain and shocking pleasure. Twice he closes his thighs around Gabriel's head, before springing his legs apart again. With a desperate need to touch him, he slides a hand through his hair, gripping just enough to hang on. Gabriel hums a sound of approval before finally releasing him, leaving, Sam's sure, a bright red or even purple mark in his wake. 

"C-Come here," Sam pleads, sliding his fingers through his hair. With an anxious sound of agreement, Gabriel scrambles up his body until their lips meet. It's a little desperate, pulling in breaths between kisses with teeth and tongue, their bodies rocking together, sometimes meeting each other, sometimes humping nothing but air. 

"Fuck, fuck, you're so perfect, Sam." Kisses pepper across his face, and that ache inside of him gets stronger. 

"My angel, I want you so bad." A desperate sound on his lips, Gabriel drops his face to Sam's neck and takes slow steadying breaths. His body rocks against Sam's. 

"Are you sure you want to--that way?" Gabriel asks. "Don't get me wrong, I want that, I want that like a kid on Christmas--No, no, so much more than that. But I would be... I would be just as happy to get off with you another way, _any_ other way you're interested in." A pink tongue swipes over kissed-red lips and Sam imagines his cock between those lips; he imagines Gabriel's eyes looking up at him as he sucked and fit as much of Sam's... bigger than average length down his throat. Fuck, yeah, he wants that, could come so hard from that--some other time. 

Right now, he wants the connection this will give him. He wants to be vulnerable to Gabe, to give him that part of himself, and he wants that heady powerful feeling of holding his angel inside of him. He wants to be with his angel in the most intimate way two men can be with each other, and he's _ready_. He's ready for this. 

"I'm sure. Thank you," he breathes, brushing fingertips across his cheek. "Thank you so much for protecting me all the time, Angel. But you don't need to protect me now. I want this, I want you inside of me, I--fuck--" he clenches on nothing "--I really want to feel you filling me up."

"Jesus." Gabriel takes the hand Sam had used to trace his cheek and kisses the palm, kisses each fingertip, and then kisses Sam. "Okay, then. Just wanted to make sure."

Sam chuckles. "Was I explicit enough?"

"Eh, could work on your imagery a bit more. 'I wanna feel you filling me up,' just isn't really vivid ya know?" he deadpans and Sam laughs, blushing and shaking his head.

"Maybe you can give me some pointers later on."

"Oh, sure thing, I'll be happy to help you with your mouth," Gabriel smirks. His hands are buried in the pillow on either side of Sam's head, his hips sliding subtly along his stomach.

"In the meantime would you mind just helping with my boxers?

Gabriel’s laughter leaves Sam flush and happy, and he threads his fingers in Gabriel's hair when his angel presses a kiss to his mouth before letting him shimmy back down his body. "They call me the shucker," he quips with a wink and kisses the tender mark he left on the inside of his thigh before slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Sam's boxers. 

The mattress shifts as Sam plants his feet to give himself some leverage to get them under the rise of his ass before tugging back his left leg and slipping the material through. His boxers end up dangling from his right ankle like some kind of peace flag when Gabriel finally gets a look at him. A flush spreads from the head his cock, staining down his curved length. Precome beads in the pubes on his stomach. Sam thinks his hole is probably visible under his balls and between his spread legs.

"Fuck," Gabriel curses. A zing of hot pleasure skates through him, and he bites his lip. Drapes his arms on the pillow over his head as he points the toes of his right foot and kicks, delicately discarding the boxers. He slides his feet up the rumpled bed spread and lets his knees fall open, watching the flush on Gabriel's face spread to his chest. "God in heaven," he breathes, and then he's there, crawling up his body and hovering over his cock. His lips lower to Sam's hot flesh to plant a wet, open kiss on the tip of his cock, and Sam melts. "You're huge," he breathes. "And gorgeous." Sam whines. His cock twitches, and with a grin, Gabriel kisses right back down his length. Fingers rolls and gently squeeze his balls before a finger slips down his perineum, prodding the sensitive skin. 

The wet heat of Gabriel's tongue licking back up him has moans spill into the air and completely distracts him before just the tip of Gabriel's dry finger presses at his hole. The surprised sound Gabriel makes when it slips in so easily to the first knuckle is followed immediately by a moan. Sam wasn't fucking lying when he said he body is _aching_ for him. 

"Lube," Gabriel croaks, his voice already sounding wrecked. "Tell me you have lube." And the vision of Gabriel's flushed face between his legs, just above his cock _does_ things to Sam. He writhes on Gabriel's finger. "F-Fu--Lube, Sam."

Sam is closer, but he doesn't want to move, laying spread and ready for his angel, so he looks to his left and points with his chin gasping “ _drawer_ ,” and watches as Gabriel scrambles for it. The saliva from Gabriel's wet kisses on his dick chills in the absence of his heat and Sam shivers, his body moving against sheets, his hand itching to grab his cock. 

The rumble of a drawer sliding open and the jolt of the few items inside distracts Sam enough to turn his head and watch Gabriel pull the purple bottle from its depths. "Found it!” Sam grins, the corners around Gabriel's eyes crinkle in response, and he bends to kiss Sam. The angle is off, but the taste of his lips is the same and Sam leans into it until Gabriel tears himself away and kisses his chin before returning between his legs. 

The little squeezy bottle is nearly full since it's been so long since he’s gotten himself off anywhere but the shower, a fist around his cock alone or accompanied by a single finger at his hole. It dribbles into Gabriel's hand and he drops it on the bed just outside of Sam's leg before kissing up the inside of his thigh.

A finger finds his entrance, a little bit cool but not cold in the warmth of his angel's hand. Gabriel starts with a thumb, slipping inside of his hole in little bursts, easing his way inside, slippery and slick. Moist kitten licks tease the underside of Sam's cock as he goes, little strokes of pleasure that are too much and not even close to enough at the same time. Sam buries his hands in his own hair, at it, groaning Gabriel's name. 

"You--I got you, Star." Midnight sky and swirling constellations are in Gabriel's blown pupils, the golden hazel sun of his irises still just visible along the outer edge. "I got you," he breathes, kissing his leg before drawing back his thumb enough to add a finger.

Sam opens for him but it's still a bit of a stretch, his hole tight after so many weeks--months--without this. "Fuck, fuck," he pants.

"Do-Are you okay? Do you need me to--"

"Keep going," he replies, interrupts. "I'm good. I'm so good, Gabe, just... ou--out of practice. Please--it feels good--please keep going."

The bed grumbles lowly as Gabriel shifts forward, spreading his free hand on Sam's thigh. It's hot on his skin, hot, so hot he wonders if it will leave a mark. Wonders why he wishes it would. 

Sam doesn't even know when Gabriel shifts from a thumb and forefinger to two fingers, but he notices when the third one pushes inside. Notices and keens, pressing his head back into the pillow and rolling his hips. "That's good, that's good, that's good," he chants. " _Move_ , fuck, Gabe, stretch me."

With what sounds like an expletive in what Sam believes is ancient Greek, Gabriel twists his fingers, pumping them forward. The hand on Sam's thigh curls, fingernails scraping lightly across goosebumps and Sam's skin feels so hyper-aware, hot and pumping, super sensitive to the fingertips tracing across it. Sam's so distracted by the patch of skin on his leg Gabriel isn't even trying to stimulate, that the jolt of pleasure through his body when he finds his prostate is a complete surprise. 

"F-f-fuck!" Pure white creamy waves of pleasure crash through his body.

"Ah-ha," Gabriel breathes. He licks his lips, watching Sam on the pillow, watching Sam pant. Three fingers. Three fingers pump and twist and stretch and twice more find that button inside of him that tugs the silken scarves so much tighter. 

"Angel-Angel," Sam gasps. "I'm ready. I'm-I'm ready, come on. Please. I need you inside--I-I need you."

With a moan that started at the word _angel_ , Gabriel drops his head to Sam's thigh. The twinge of his rim closing down on nothing in the sudden vacuum draws a whimper from him. He paws at the bed sheets like a cat, letting the flex of his hands and texture on his palms distract him from squirming too much. Moist kisses move up and down his thigh, a wet stripe licked across the mark Gabriel already left there.

Again, the bed grumbles and springs when Gabriel slides off. He divests himself of his pajamas and underwear without ceremony, and Sam props himself up just enough to see the cock that springs free. He _feels_ himself whine more than he hears it, the tingle of a shiver without the actual vibration shuddering in his stomach. Fuck. 

He's about normal length, but he's thick and there's a vein crawling up the underside of his cock and he's fucking gorgeous. "You--You're--" he cuts himself off because as much as he wants to tell Gabriel how beautiful he is, he doesn't mean just his cock, so he stumbles into a swear. "Fuck. Fuck. Come here."

Gabriel climbs up on the bed on Sam's request, and when he's within grabbing distance Sam hauls him up and kisses him. He digs his fingers in to hang on and he kisses him hard. "You're gorgeous, angel."

" _Sam_. I-I need--" His breath is hot against Sam's lips. "The party will end sooner than either of us wants if you keep kissing me like that," Gabriel warns, and then proceeds to kiss him just as hard. "Fuck," he swears. "You're like the best dessert. Irresistible."

"Mmm, you haven't even tasted the best parts yet."

Gabriel honest to god growls. "Later." The way he slides down Sam has his cock riding right along the crack of Sam's ass. Feeling the weight of him has him gasping.

"Later," Sam agrees.

With a delicious grin Gabriel spreads some lube up his cock with a couple of strokes and a hum and then lines himself up. The head of his cock is just pressing against Sam's hole in a delicious teasing taste that has Sam rolling his hips when something passes over Gabriel's face. The corners of lips tug down and there's something like... Sam isn't even sure what, anxiety maybe, and then Gabriel shakes himself and it's gone and he's pushing in. Quickly relaxing himself, there's about a second where his rim resists, and then it opens up around Gabriel, and he groans as he pushes himself in. He goes all the way in one slow charge, parting Sam's insides so fucking good. There's a little bit of a stretch because Gabriel feels fucking thick, but it's good, it's all so good.

"Mmm, Gaabe," he moans. He drags his legs up around Gabriel's hips and locks them around his waist, keeping his angel right where he is. 

"Sam," Gabriel pants. He falls forward, bracing himself on the bed and jostling his cock in Sam. He grunts at the twinge that shoots through him. 

"Is-Is this okay?" the sweet idiot asks, and Sam opens his eyes. Gabriel's face is almost too close to take in and yet Sam still can make out the thread of uncertainty in the crook of his brows and turn of his lips. Like he expects Sam to be dissatisfied with any part of him or anything he does to him. 

"It's so okay." He palms Gabriel's cheek, warming when he leans into it. "It's so beyond okay, my angel."

"Are you sure I'm-- ...You know what? Nevermind." Gabriel smiles at him, but it's tight and when he kisses Sam's chest it feels like he's hiding.

Processing this, Sam hikes his legs a little higher, feeling the thick length of Gabriel shift inside of him with the movement and holding back a moan. Alerted to his movement, Gabriel grinds a little bit, testing the waters, but until Sam figures out what's going on in his angel's head, he isn't ready for this, so he lock his ankles and says, "No, wait a minute, Gabriel. What-What's wrong? Please tell me." The lips he loves so much are turned down and Sam so much wants to kiss them better, but he needs to hear his angel talk first. But Gabriel shakes his head, a brush off clearly on the tip of his tongue, so Sam interrupts him before he can. "Please." He drags the tips of his fingers over his forehead, down his cheeks. "I know there's something. Please tell me?"

After a moment of hesitation, Gabriel sighs and looks away. "I was just... You... After Max, before you went to the club you said--" He trails off, but he doesn’t have to go on because Sam remembers. Fuck, he remembers.

He'd said--He'd said he'd find someone else, someone with a big cock who could satisfy him since Gabriel couldn't. He hadn’t--of course he hadn’t meant it that way--he’d meant because Gabriel couldn’t have sex with him at _all_ , and he’d been... he'd been... angry--No angry doesn’t even cover it. He'd been sad and lonely and _frustrated_. He'd lashed out and heaven knows he regrets that night on so many levels, the way he blamed his angel and the things he'd said to him so high on that list.

And now his sweet, funny, _cocky_ angel looks... small and anxious. Damnit, he needs to make it better. He needs to restore confidence to those eyes.

Sam moves his hand through Gabriel's hair as he looks into his eyes. "Oh, Gabe. _You_ are the only person I want," he begins. "What I said that night was... reactionary, Gabriel, I didn't mean any of it. I'm sorry I said it, I'm sorry." 

A sardonic smile twists his lips. "It's not like I didn't deserve it."

"No, no you _didn't_ deserve it. My angel, you've satisfied me in so many ways long before I could touch you like this. You were always there for me, caring about me, listening to _anything_ I had to say. And now..." He clenches, and while Gabriel's mouth falls open in surprise, he himself shuts his eyes and drops his head back, reveling and whining a little. "You feel so big. S-So fucking good, Gabriel. Better than I ever imagined." He tugs Gabriel down, feeling the slide of his cock, and kisses him. Without hesitation Gabriel kisses him back, making a soft sound. It isn't French, yet the connection Sam feels from it is so powerful, so intense, he jerks with surprised pleasure when Gabriel fucks into him. Their lips separate, but they're so close they brush when Gabriel does it again.

"Nnngh, Gabe. Yeah, f-fuck me." His left palm is still resting on Gabriel's cheek, but his angel finds his right, laying unoccupied by his head and links their fingers together, pushing his palm down into the mattress.

"Sam," he breathes as he moves in him, with him. "Sam." Pleasure bursts up his spine, wraps around his sides, coils in his lungs. And Sam buries his hand in that golden hair, tensing his legs and tightening his ankles to hold on. 

He didn't realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them. Hazy, curtained light fills the room with soft grays. Golden hair, like a sunburst, twists between his fingers, and then Gabriel hits that spot inside him and _fuuuck_. Colors light up in his vision. His back arches to the pleasure and he pushes in to Gabriel's next thrust.

"God, you're too perfect." Hot breath along his jaw. Sam flexes his hand against his angel's grip and finds his eyes. Hazelnut rims great big wells of black. Sharp nose. Lax mouth. Wide forehead that Sam wants to pepper with kisses.

"Angel," he breathes. He wouldn't have thought it would be possible, but the black expands.

" _Stargazer_."

Fuck, fuck, and now he gets it. Groaning, he clenches down tight and _feels_ Gabriel stutter.

"God," Gabriel's forehead drops to Sam's chest and he _grinds_ , pushing up that much deeper into Sam, stretching his rim. His stomach just rubs over Sam's cock but it's enough to send rippling pleasure through his body, and he pushes up into Gabriel, rocking on his cock, feeling him inside, feeling his own cock stroke Gabriel's body. Possessiveness chokes up his throat like an unstoppable force and he drags Gabriel up to his lips. 

It's sloppy, so, so sloppy with tongue and more than one swipe of teeth, with Gabriel fucking into him and _bending_ him to reach his mouth, but that's fine, that's good, it's--

"-- _so fucking good!_ Uh, uh, Ga-Gabriel," his voice is coming out loud, but he's too far gone to control it. "I'm cl-close, f-fuck, Gabriel." With a wounded sound, Gabriel's thrusts get harder, faster, his mouth hovering at Sam's jaw, kissing him wet with little grunts and murmurs of his name.

The bed creaks, the headboard bangs against the wall, the heady scent of sex filling the air like spores. Leaking precome, Sam's cock drags against his own stomach, riding against Gabriel's, and then Gabriel finds that spot inside of him again and Sam's _huh, huh, huh,_ turns into whines. Like an arrow he hits Sam's mark again and again, driving the pleasure bundled up in Sam's nerves higher and higher

"Damnit, Sam, I'm so clo-o-ose." Gabriel, his Gabriel, his angel keens, fucking into him, body tight, hand clenched with his and pressed into the mattress, lips trailing sloppy kisses over his chest, and Sam is _high_. With a rush, ecstasy bursts under his skin and shoots from his cock, and with a wailing cry and a grip on Gabriel's arm that will probably leave bruises, his body locks down on the cock inside of him, squeezing and clenching and oh _fuck_. 

Gabriel shudders on top of him, hips slamming, cock pumping a few more hard fast strokes, and then he slams in deep and stills, groaning. Warmth fills Sam's insides and knowing Gabriel is coming inside of him bare ratchets up his own pleasure so much, another spurt spills from his cock as that same possessiveness from before returns with a rush. Weakly, he tightens his ankles even as Gabriel's forehead lands on Sam's stomach and he thrusts a few more times to work his orgasm.

Speech right now is beyond Sam's ability, but euphoria feels like it's filling up his molecules so much it's going to spill over any second. A smile is already twitching up his lips and he knows this is the kind of orgasm that will leave him bouncing on his heels happy. Gabriel is still inside of him, wrapped up around him, smelling of sweetness and sex and sweat and greasy hair and Sam never, ever, ever wants to let him go.

Fuck, it hits him then. He _can_ be selfish. He _can_ be greedy. He can think about himself because... now that he's had this he can't imagine a world without his angel beside him, listening to his stories, cracking jokes, being tangled up with him in his extra long, extra creaky bed.

The hand he had on Gabriel's arm shifts to smooth over his back and Gabriel murmurs happily, still recovering and apparently too out of it to move just yet. A smile quivering on his lips, he runs his fingers over muscles and sweat damp skin. The connection he feels to this man is soul deep, like it's--like it's as twisted up with him as their limbs and he knows now, he knows, he's going to hold onto him. For as long as he possibly can.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam tenses briefly when Gabriel pulls out but smiles into the apologetic kiss Gabriel plants on his lips before reluctantly easing the locked muscles of his legs and letting them drop to the mattress and free Gabriel to fall on the bed beside him. Exhaustion strokes up his calves and burns in his thighs now that his legs are finally able to sink into the cushioned pillowtop. He groans softly as they first settle. But the soreness is easily ignored when Gabriel grabs a t-shirt off the floor and wipes up Sam's chest and gently between his legs before curling up against his side in a mirror of their position last night, his head a warm weight on Sam's shoulder.

"It's totally cliche to tell you how much I love you in the post orgasmic haze, so I'll wait until Iater." Gabriel snuggles in his neck, his voice soft and a little slurred. Warmth burrows in Sam's chest, along with a little zing of anxiety. He focuses on Gabriel's closeness and strokes up the arm that's draped over his stomach.

"Gabe?"

"Hm?" his angel murmurs in response, clearly fighting the urge to sleep.

Sam shifts in the pretext of getting comfortable. "Please don't think I don't feel the same way, because I do... so much. I--I'm just... I can't explain it, I just can't say it back yet. I'm not ready."

Gabriel's palm flattens on Sam's stomach as if to stop him, and he puts his chin on Sam's shoulder so they can see one another. Pink still flushes his cheeks. His lips are swollen and his hair ruffled. There's a serious expression on his face even as his eyes still seem to twinkle like the stars with happiness. He's the most gorgeous thing Sam has ever seen. 

"Star, you don't have to explain anything to me. Our relationship has never been a simple one." His eyes scrunch, conveying a smile without moving his lips. "If you're not ready, you're not ready. I'm not upset or angry. I wouldn't want to hear it unless you were." He tilts his head to kiss his shoulder. "Is it... Does it bother you when I say it?"

Sam straightens his spine. "No! God, no, not at all. It--I love hearing it. They're the most beautiful words I've ever heard."

Soft eyes sharpen into teasing ones in barely a handful of seconds. His angel shifts, supporting more of his own weight and placing a more solid kiss on Sam's shoulder. "Better than... 'I cleaned the cages and fed the pets'?"

Sam snorts even as light fills his chest at thought of such a domestic sentence as Gabriel places another kiss a little higher. "Yes."

"Hmm..." His head tilts adorably as he thinks. "How about, 'I want to suck you off until you come down my throat'?" 

Sam's cock can't raise as much as his eyebrows just did, but it heroically twitches in the effort. He clears his throat. "Ahem, as... _exciting_ as that hypothetical sounds, it doesn't come close to measuring up."

Gabriel's lips trail across his jaw before he purses his lips. "What about, 'Good morning sleepyhead, I made you an egg white omelette and fruit salad for breakfast'?"

"I'd have to think about that one," Sam deadpans. 

Warm breath puffs across Sam's chin and neck as Gabriel drops his head with a chortle, his shoulders shaking under Sam's palms. Sam laughs with him. There's mirth in his eyes when he gazes back at Sam, so close.

"Just kidding," Sam needlessly clarifies, breathless all of a sudden. "Doesn't even compare."

His grin widening, Gabriel's gaze flickers over Sam's face with ... _feeling_ , with intensity. His lips get even closer but he doesn't kiss him yet. "I love you." Joy punches the breath right from Sam's lungs. Gabriel watches what Sam can only imagine is his face _lighting_ up--and _then_ he kisses him. Firm lips, soft hands. He turns and kisses him at a better angle and Sam twists a hand in his hair, humming happily.

They kiss for a long time, snuggled up together, before winding up on their sides sharing a pillow, their legs tangled together, arms and hands and fingertips usually tracing up or down one another. The wonder of... of just looking at Gabriel, of touching him--Sam doesn't think it will ever wear off. 

Which... Which is why they really need to have that conversation. If he can't... If Gabriel doesn't want to stay... Fuck, he would never see him again. He literally can't imagine his life without Gabriel nearby; pain twists in his chest at just the thought.

As if he can feel it too, the expression on the face next to him changes subtly. The hand that had been resting on Sam's shoulder brushes through his hair and smooths the skin just under his hair line. "What's going on in that big handsome head of yours, hm?"

He _did_ sense it. Lips twitching, Sam turns his head and presses a kiss to wrist then takes a breath. 

"Gabriel..." Sam shifts the sheet and throw that are halfway up their bodies so it lets some air in on his suddenly heated back. Gabriel waits patiently, so Sam takes his hand and winds their fingers together between them before finding his eyes again. "We haven't talked about it, and we need to. Angel, what are you going to tell the--ah--the ‘Score’?" Gabriel nods, confirming the title, and Sam repeats the last two words. "The Score. Because you have just two more nights here with me and... you-- ...I need to know what you're thinking."

The drawn eyebrows get closer, a sallow, haggard look passing over Gabriel's face that hurts to see. He presses a kiss Sam's second knuckle. "Truthfully, Star... I don't know. I... You know I want to stay here with you just like this--I want that, more than anything. But I--" he sighs, "It's complicated."

"It doesn't have to be. Just tell me what you're thinking."

Gabriel's head falls back on the pillow. "Well, for starters, I have no experience being a human, I have no documented education, no job; heck, I'm not even legally recognized as a person, let alone a citizen of the great _Estados Unidos_. I literally have nothing, could bring you nothing, could bring nothing to this..." his eyes flicker, looking for the right word, "...relationship," he ends finally. "Where would I stay? With you? You've only known me a day, that's pretty quick to move in together, and if I did stay with you, I'd be burden for--I don't even know how long, while I figure out how to establish myself. Even then, I don't know if I could _ever_ be an equal partner to you, and you deserve so much more than what I can give." He ends this spiel with a squeeze of his fingers, brows low, lips pursed. Tendrils of deep blue and flaring orange seep in Sam's soul like he can still feel what his Angel feels, and it's so much.

Fuck. "You've been thinking about this." Saying the words out loud makes him smile, despite himself, and Gabriel rolls his eyes.

"No, no, not really, you know, just basically every minute of my waking hours." He pauses, and then kisses Sam's nose, smirking, "Well, except when my dick was in your ass."

"Oh, that distracted you pretty good, did it? Feel good, filling me up?" Heat threatens his cheeks but Sam fights it off with a twist of his own lips, giving as good as he gets. Gabriel's groan helps too. 

"When did you become such a sass and a tease?"

Sam laughs. "About twelve hours ago, I think. You bring out a side of me I didn't know I had."

"Mmm," Gabriel hums nuzzling closer to him on the pillow. "I like all the sides of you." His breath ghosts over Sam's face before he leaves a kiss on his forehead.

"Gabe..." Sam murmurs softly, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"Like this one," he sighs and draws his lips to Sam's cheek, just below his eye. "Or this one." Warmth blossoms in Sam's stomach like it only seems to do with this soft creature, soothing like a balm over his fears and anxieties. Lips press to the side of the bridge of his nose before trailing down to hover over his mouth. "I especially like these."

"Gabe," Sam tries, but Gabriel's lips press into his and the words stutter on his tongue. Gabriel kisses him like-like it's the first time they've kissed... or the last. And fuck, despite that sobering thought Gabriel's tongue is sharp and sly and not just when he's making a rejoinder. Gabriel's naked body close enough to warm Sam's skin, and Sam's dick doesn't even care he just had an intense orgasm half an hour ago. It wants Gabriel as much as he does, and it's doing a pretty damn good job of showing it. Pulling in a breath, Sam gently pushes Gabriel back. Gabriel goes easily but with wounded animal sounds the whole time. 

"What did you do that for?" he asks. 

Sam can almost see the halo spinning over his head with his dark eyes and wet-lipped pout. How can someone look like such an innocent puppy and so fucking erotic at once? 

"I ask myself the same thing all the time," Gabriel smirks at him.

Sam blinks, realizing he'd asked that out loud. The rush of air to his head as he takes a breath clears a little bit of the fog on his mind, but he still shakes himself to get a grip. "We were having a conversation."

"Mm, and then we were kissing. I liked that part better."

Sam runs a shaky hand through his hair. "Gabe."

"Stargazer." Gabriel's lips quirk.

"Concentrate."

"Believe me, I am."

Fighting the arousal that's simmering under his skin, unhelped with the way Gabriel's looking at him, Sam shuts his eyes and cuts to the heart of his angel's issue. "Listen," he says, hand on Gabriel's cheek, watching the bob of his throat before staring into amber honey and matcha. "I wish we didn't have to talk about this either. I wish you were free to be an angel with powers and wings and invulnerability-- _And_ love me. But for some crappy reason, you can't, and if I'm going to be selfish enough to ask you to stay, I need to start convincing you now."

"So, like..." The angel shifts and looks up at him through his lashes, unknowingly heart-melting. "You want me to stay?"

Sam sucks in a breath and blinks with surprise. "Yes, yes, _of course_." Did he doubt that? " _Hell_ yes." Sam holds his face in his hands."I know--I shouldn't, I know I'm asking you to give up... I can't even wrap my head around all that you are, just to have a short, imperfect human life with me, but... I don't know how to _live_ without you. Could I figure it out one day? Yeah, probably," he allows, knowing his own fortitude. "Would I ever be as happy as I am right fucking now with you in this bed beside me? Not a chance." He searches Gabriel's face. "Even with the threat of my world crashing down around me in two days' time, I am happier with you than I can ever imagine being."

Soft apple cheeks twitch with the turn of Gabriel's head, lips tight in an expression Sam can't positively name. "So you don't feel strongly about it or anything."

Snorting, Sam shakes his head, holds his chin, and kisses his lips once, twice. "Oh no, not at all. Only about as much as a captain feels about the north star."

Gabriel grins. "Hmm, as much as a carrot to Rigel?" Sam snorts and kisses him. "The hamster I mean, not the--" he kisses him again. "The... the thing..." 

"Yes, definitely."

Gabriel pants a breath, melting into the next kiss. "How about your brother's car--what's he call it?"

"Mm, _Baby_ ," Sam answers distractedly.

"Yeah, yeah, Baby." Sam licks into Gabriel's mouth, kissing him slow and deep. "As-As much as Baby to Dean."

"Mm-hm," Sam agrees. "And don't forget the leather jacket."

"Oh no," Gabriel fists Sam's hair. "Never forget the leather jacket." Their lips connect and Sam loses himself in kissing Gabriel, making out with Gabriel like a horny teenager and unable to bring himself to care. Pleasure and arousal are pulsing quick and heavy to his cock, and fuck it, Sam doesn't have the strength to talk himself down again. With a deep-seated groan that's nearly a growl, Sam pushes Gabriel onto his back and swings a leg over to straddle his abdomen. "Fuck, Sammy, I had no idea you had a thing for leather jackets too."

Wincing at that particular nickname and mildly grossed out but not even close enough to kill his boner, Sam rolls his eyes at Gabriel's teasing. "You drive me crazy."

"In a good way, I hope?" Gabriel's lips are wet when he smiles at him, his hands naturally resting warm on Sam's thighs as he looks up at him.

"Always. Just don't call me Sammy. Anything but Sammy. Dean calls me that, and he's got nothing to do what's about to happen here."

"Fuck, I like the sound of--" Sam drops over Gabriel and cuts him off with a kiss, mouth open, tongue seeking, rolling his ass against toned stomach and shivering at the feel. Gabriel's cock bumps against his ass, and Sam sighs, _wanting_ it all over again. Reaching back, he lifts his hips and lays Gabriel's cock flat, then settles his ass cheeks over it. The head nudges at his balls and settles along his taint and hole, and Gabriel moans. Sam's still wet enough from their earlier fuck that when he rolls his hips, Gabriel's hard heat slides perfectly along his sensitive flesh.

"Unng, god that feels good," he pants.

"Y-You're one to talk." Fingers tighten around his thighs, pushing and pulling and helping him move.

Sam drops his head, forehead to forehead with his angel. "But when we're--Mmm--when we're done we're talking, okay?"

Hot breath puffs against his lips. "Yeah, yes. Will do, Sexy Bossman."

"'Sexy Bossman'?" Sam laughs in spite of himself and kisses Gabriel's nose, his eyebrow, drops down to lay kisses across his cheek.

"Well," Gabriel pants. "You're the boss, and you're se-exy." Sam smiles around his teeth in Gabriel's earlobe. "You can't expect me--expect me to be all that smart when you're naked and on top of me." Gabriel must move or something because the head of his dick hits hard and just right in the tender skin just above his asshole.

"F-Fuck. You're always smart," Sam breathes in his ear, meaning the word in a completely different way. "And sharp. And attentive. And _hot_ ," he hisses, little jolts of pleasure shooting through his groin with every lazy slide. "And you're fucking warm," he moans laying on Gabriel's body and arching his hips. The angle is difficult, but he reaches back and finds Gabriel's dick. Wraps his fingers around it.

"W-Wait, Sam, lube--" The word dies in a groan as Sam lines him up and pushes back. He slides in easily since Sam is loose still from their fucking less than half an hour ago, and while the lube has since dried on Gabriel's cock, Sam was wet enough from lube and the leftover cum slowly leaking from his ass that rubbing up and down his length inadvertently slicked him up, and the ride down is nothing but... fucking sensational.

"Ooooh god," Sam moans against Gabriel's neck. "I love the feeling of you inside of me."

"Jesus," Gabriel mewls, his head thrown back on the pillow, glorious golden hair on a field of white and amber irises shot with dark arousal. Gabriel squeezes his thighs, and-- _fuck_ \--Sam swears he can feel Gabriel's cock _twitch_ inside of him. "You sexy beast, do you have any idea what you do to me?" Gabriel coos, nuzzling him, kissing his cheek, drawing his big palms up Sam's asscheeks, over his back to rest on his waist. Heat trails after his palms like fiery licks up Sam's skin. 

Biting back a whimper, Sam remembers the feeling of Gabriel twitching and pushes himself up on his forearms with a grin. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Fuck," Gabriel curses, the whites of his teeth showing in a sideways grin. "Yeah, you do, don't you."

"Mmm." Sam arches his back and lifts his ass, feeling Gabriel's cock pull through his insides, before dropping down just as quick. Pleasure tightens Gabriel's face and he plants his feet and wriggles his hips. "Let's test the theory, hm?"

"Ungh-- _yes_!" Gabriel moans as Sam repeats the motion. And it's good, it's really good, but Sam wants to feel all of Gabriel inside of him as much as he wants to pound out as much pleasure as he can from his angel, so he pushes up on Gabriel, feeling the straining cock slip that much deeper inside of him, and settles on Gabriel's cock, fucking impaled. Bracing himself with his arms stretched behind him, he starts moving, tensing his calves, tightening his core, and letting gravity drag him back down. 

"How's that-- _ha_ \--feel-- _ngh_ \--Baby, huh?" Sam pants, eyes slitted, watching Gabriel down the bridge of his nose as he bounces on top of him. He tightens on the upswing, squeezing the head, and then relaxes as he slams back down before doing it again. Little pants and moans are slipping from his lips as he angles his hips and Gabriel's thick cock seems to hit every one of his sweet spots.

Gabriel is writhing underneath him, giving these little abortive thrusts as he pants and stares at him like... like he hung the moon or something. Stars in his eyes, and Sam feels so much all of a sudden. His heart fills with warmth that just expands through him. How did he get so lucky? How can an _angel_... love him? This angel. His angel.

"--abe, Gabe, Gabe," he chants, realizes he's _been_ chanting for--he doesn't know how long. " _Ooh god_." Electricity snaps through him as he grinds on Gabriel and Gabe cants his hips _just right_. He feels so good, so good. "Gabe, god," his hands are bracing themselves on Gabriel's calves but he wishes for a second he wasn't in this position so he could wrap his angel up and kiss his feelings into his skin even if he can't say the words yet. Instead, he just breathes, "You make me f-feel so much."

Moaning, Gabriel's hips snap up and he hits places deep and sensitive inside of him. He's just clenching around him in pleasure when Gabriel uses his own weight to flip them, slipping from him briefly as Sam falls back on the pillow. There's just a second's chance to grunt and drop his feet to the bedspread when Gabriel is pushing back inside of him. " _Oh yes,_ " he hisses. It's like he's read his mind again, letting Sam rest his burning calves while Gabriel does all the work. Letting Sam wind his arms around his shoulders and drag him in. " _Nng Gabe._ " He pants and moans as Gabriel starts moving inside of him, with _long_ thrusts, not hard but _deep_ , grinding in him every time he's fully sheathed.

"Sam. _Sam,_ you are so beautiful." Stars in his eyes. Sam _wails_ , he loves him so much, and kisses him. Whines into his mouth. Open, wet. He can barely pull back, he's feeling so good, _oh god_ , so good. His aching muscles just sink into bed as Gabriel moves in him, above him, around him, filling every single one of his senses. 

"You--You're my-my light," Sam gasps.

"S-Sam." Gabriel fucks him just a little bit faster, harder. "Sam, _fuck_ , I'm so close, _Unng._ You feel so good. God, you _smell_ good." Sam stretches his neck with Gabriel nosing up his skin, kissing everywhere he can reach. "So good to me. So patient. So perfect for me. _S-Star_." Sam doesn't even see the hand reach between their bodies, so fucking caught up in _Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel._ When it closes tight around his cock, Sam gasps, his head falling back in ecstasy.

"Fuck, fuck! G-Gabe. Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_! Yes, _uh_ , yes, just like-- _ah_ , fuck." The strokes are hard now and getting faster, quick, short little bursts of ecstasy, and he's so close, so close.

"Fuck, Sam, I'm gonna come," Gabriel grits out between clenched teeth. "You gotta--you gotta--"

"G-Gabriel," the gasp of his name turns into a long, drawn out moan as pleasure spikes at the base of Sam's spinal cord. His back bends as his cock shoots his load in hot streaks all over both of their abdomens, giving a little pulse with every hard thrust of Gabriel's cock into his locked tight body.

Moans and praise he can't even understand fall on deaf ears, and then Gabriel stops suddenly, buried inside of him as hot, hot warmth fills him up a second time. Pleasure spikes through him so suddenly his cock gives another, final weak dribble as he clenches around Gabriel, milking his cock for all its worth.

He collapses on the bed then, Gabriel still half buried inside and weakly thrusting out the last of his pleasure as tremors overtake them both. Finally pulling gently from him, Gabriel sort of collapses halfway on him, halfway beside him, groaning somewhere between pleasure-worn and exhausted. A fond smile curls up one side of Sam's lips. Sweat dampens the hair on Gabriel's forehead to russet that Sam combs his fingers through silently. Come is slowly leaking from his lax body, probably soiling the already unkempt sheets, and yet Sam can't bring himself to care. Barely even minds the stuff smudged and cooling between their bodies. Just Gabriel. Gabriel with his exhausted smile and lidded eyes, his chin turned just so he can look up at him.

"I can't believe we just did that twice," Sam moans with a smile. "God, you're so distracting." Little tremors of pleasure shiver through him as he lays there.

" _Mmfph,_ " Gabriel replies, apparently still too tired to speak.

Sam chuckles, deep in his throat. "I guess we're due a little bit of marathon sex, aren't we?" Gabriel's eyes sparkle, and his head shift up and down against Sam in a parody of a nod, making Sam laugh even more. And then groan, because his entire body feels lax and heavy. "Make a deal with you," he mumbles, slapping his hand down around his nightstand until he feels the smooth, sleek case of his phone and brings it up. "We take a thirty minute nap with an alarm set, and then we shower. How does that sound?"

Lips punch out in thought, and then Gabriel does that head-shifting nod thing again, his bright eyes narrowed with a smile. "Okay," Sam replies, unable to do anything but grin as he wakes his phone. He sees he has a few messages from coworkers wishing him well and assuring him they'll figure it out in his absence and to take as much time as he needs, as well as a missed call and a couple texts from Dean earlier this morning.

 **Dean:** Dude I know somethings wrong but I said we can do this however u need and I meant it. If u need time alone thats fine but I still need to at least hear something from u ok?  
**Dean:** Like 1 msg every day. S'all Im askin  
**Dean:** And none of that preprogrammed shit

Sam smiles at the messages. Dean always somehow gives him just enough room while being there for him at the same time. If only he knew how much better Sam is doing from the last time he saw him. 

Before setting the alarm, he types out a couple of quick replies.

 **Sam:** Phone was on silent, sorry, just saw these.  
**Sam:** But I'm okay now. Better than okay. It's a long story, and yes I will tell you all about it - but later.

Biting his lip, Sam glances at Gabriel on his shoulder. His eyes are closed, his expression smooth. Soft, slow breaths are easing over Sam's skin. He spares a moment to let his heart skip, and then he sends off one more text.

 **Sam:** Dean, do you know someone (whom you haven't arrested) who can make really good papers? Birth certificate, fake id, whatever someone needs to be a legal person and citizen? 

Thinking again, he adds:

 **Sam:** I promise I'm not in any trouble. No one is - this goes with that long story I mentioned, okay. 

That done, he lets out a breath and after setting his alarm, settles into the bed with his angel. Gabriel makes a slight snuffling sound, opening and then closing his mouth before curling up closer on Sam's chest. Barely containing a small, giddy laugh, Sam holds him close and relaxes back into his pillows, wondering if he can even sleep anymore. But the pleasant ache of his thighs and calves lying heavy on the mattress feels amazing, and the full mind and body weariness of two orgasms in a row has turned down the volume of his thoughts by at least half. It takes far less time than he expected to slip into peaceful nap. 

When the alarm buzzes it isn't necessarily welcome, but Sam feels somewhat rested all the same. He slaps his hand down on it as Gabriel makes unhappy moaning sounds and squeezes Sam's torso. "I think I like sleep."

"Everybody likes sleep," Sam chuckles. 

"I think we should sleep more, just like this," Gabriel murmurs, lips moving along Sam's skin.

"If we don't wash the cum off soon we'll end up glued together like this," Sam replies, scrunching his nose at the unpleasant feeling.

A long sigh whuffs over Sam's neck, scattering some strands of his hair. "While being glued to you sounds deliciously kinky, the feeling of drying cum is starting to get a little bit gross."

"God, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so," Sam says as they start clambering across the bed and over the side.

"Would that have been a deal breaker?" Gabriel teases. "No dating men who don't mind the feel of cum in their pubes?"

Sam's nose wrinkles at Gabriel sitting butt naked next to him, feet dangling over the side--and laughs. Because if only Gabriel knew all the things he would put up with for the chance to have a life with him. Cum in his pubes or not. Though, preferably not. "Come on, Romeo."

They step into a cold spray first in the too small shower to rinse off the thin layer of sweat on their bodies, Gabriel carefully directing Sam under the spray first. Cool, but not freezing, water washes down his body, soaking his hair and helping him feel clean before even picking up a bar of soap. He has to tip his head back a little to get all of his hair, but then shuffles around Gabriel and wiggles his fingers through his hair to help him soak up. Water catches on dark, fluttering lashes. Sam smooths through his hair and drags his hands over wet skin to curl over shoulders as Gabriel tips his head back, closing his eyes under the spray.

When they're both soaked Gabriel reaches for the blue bar of soap and lathers up his hands. Blinking under the spray and smiling up at him, he starts on Sam’s neck, smoothing his hands up collar bones just under his hairline, pausing at what Sam can only imagine is a hickey at the base of his throat, if the slight sensitivity of his skin and Gabriel's stuttered expression are anything to go by. Fingers and soapy thumbs brush over that mark when Gabriel blinks up at him, face open and vulnerable, pupils a little wider than they were few seconds ago. The parentheses of Gabriel's smile are faint and just on one side as he smiles softly at him. He presses a kiss to Sam's chest before moving on, slowly soaping up his body and scrubbing the cum from his skin, returning a few times for the soap bar as he goes. His hands are gentle and studious when he works even Sam's groin with suds, crouching down and, again, having a few quiet moments with the purplish bruise on his inner thigh. After shampooing his hair and delicately rubbing his palms and swiping his thumbs over Sam's face, they turn up the water until it's hot and shuffle around again, holding onto each other to keep balance, until Sam is under the spray and all the suds swirl down the drain. 

"My turn," he hums, reaching for the soap. It's surreal for him, this moment when he's dragging his palms over Gabriel's shoulders and just... just feeling shower-cooled skin under his palms. Like Gabriel before him, he can't help trailing over the few odd yellow and purple marks he finds on his body, kissing each one as he goes. When his body's soaped up, and he's preparing to shampoo, something goes soft inside of him. Gabriel with his damp-darkened hair plastered to his forehead, beads of moisture trailing over the contours of his lathered body, a lazy, contented smile on his lips--the smile, he thinks, is what does it to him. 

The shampoo bottle ends up on the shower floor, kicked away by their feet in the water eddies as Sam kisses Gabriel against the wall. Very little of the slick shampoo in Sam's palms winds up in his hair as he palms the back of his neck. Soft pants fill the air as they make out slow and needy, steam blanketing everything in white.

The water has cooled to just warm when they finally get Gabriel under the spray, soap trails sliding down his body as he tips back his head under Sam's gently massaging fingers.

"One of life's pleasures is a steaming hot shower. Sorry you missed out on that today," Sam murmurs.

Gabriel peeks at him with one eye, his eyebrow raised. "Trust me, I'll have _very_ steamy memories of my first shower." He scans him up and down, and just when Sam thinks he's completely fucked out and reached his sex limit for at least this morning, his cock gives a little twitch. Flushing, he shakes his head with a chuckle and helps Gabriel rinse off before he winds up testing that theory. He hasn't been this horny since... ever? Gabriel _does_ something to him. 

When they do get out, Sam tosses him a towel, drying himself off with one of his own before slinging it around his hips. "I'll grab us some clothes."

"Oh, don't put yourself to any trouble on my account," Gabriel waggles his brows and Sam snorts before going to his dresser and rummaging through the drawers. Everything of his will sadly be long on Gabriel, and he hums, thinking they should make a wardrobe run. Yeah, get Gabriel some clothes of his own that will fit. Yeah, and he can put them in the bottom drawer. Sam hardly even uses the bottom drawer on this thing. Besides a few knickknacks there's nothing in there. And really, he could easily combine his sock drawer and underwear drawers so that would be _two_ drawers empty and available for Gabriel. 

"What are you smiling at?" Gabriel murmurs from the doorway. 

_Making room in my drawers_ for you probably wouldn't last two seconds before being turned into an innuendo so Sam just murmurs, "Socks and underwear," passing Gabriel a stack of clothes. Hey, it's true after all. "The pants will probably be a bit long, but we can stop and get you some new clothes later."

"Probably?" Gabriel eyes Sam's towel-wrapped legs. "Try definitely. But no worries," he winks. "I'm sure these will be just fine." Gabriel smiles and then points behind him at the bathroom. "Now I'm gonna... If you don't need in here..."

Waving a hand, Sam tells him to go ahead and Gabriel shuts the door behind him. Getting dressed quickly, Sam drapes his towel over his clothes basket to hang later, snatches up his phone, and heads to the kitchen. As he starts pulling ingredients from the fridge for what will now be brunch based on the clock on his phone, he checks his messages from Dean.

 **Dean:** Sam.  
**Dean:** Yeah ask ur cop bro how to hook up with a guy who can make you fake creds, sounds like a GREAT plan  
**Dean:** Tho... I do know someone  
**Dean:** But if you're in some kind of shady shit and not telling me, so help me

Grinning with fondness, Sam leans against the counter to text back real quick.

 **Sam:** Trust me, least shady guy you'll ever meet. You might even call him... angelic. Although, the mouth him is pretty sinful, if I'm being honest ;)  
**Sam:** But it's complicated right now. And this is a story I'll have to tell you in person... in a few days. Maybe Thursday? Things should be...

He pauses mid text, considering how to finish that sentence. By Thursday he should know... right? He should know by then. Biting his lip with thought, he concludes:

 **Sam:** But it's complicated right now. And this is a story I'll have to tell you in person... in a few days. Maybe Thursday? Things should be... determined by then.  
**Sam:** Anyway, I might end up needing the deets on this guy you know.

 _Hmm-ing_ with thought, he also adds:

 **Sam:** Thanks for trusting me, Dean. And believe me, if I ever need some help with shady shit you're the first person I'm calling. 

Stuffing his phone in his back pocket, he grabs a bowl and starts cracking eggs and chopping peppers and thinking Tuesday night. Tomorrow night will be three nights. And what does that even mean? Is this some kind of bizarre fairy tale in which Gabriel will get his wings back at midnight? And then... fly home. And then decide, apparently. Decide whether or not to stay with Sam... 

What... will Gabriel choose? 

Sam gasps as a bite of pain stabs up his finger and he drops the knife on the cutting board. A drop of blood drips on the bell pepper he was slicing, and he hisses through his teeth with annoyance.

"Woah, you alright over there?" Gabriel's concerned voice has Sam throwing him a reassuring smile before focusing back on his cut. It's not very deep, just unexpected and hurts like a bitch.

"Yeah," he grunts, and is embarrassed to find his voice a little crackier than usual. Shit, he's a little stressed and the unexpectedness of the pain has him feeling a little vulnerable. Clearing his throat, he firms his voice as Gabriel gently takes his hand and looks him over. "Just nicked myself."

"Mm, you sure did, Samshine." Lifting it, he kisses the wound very delicately, eyes flicking up to Sam's. "I'll get you a paper towel and... First aid kit?"

"Bathroom, under the sink."

"Right," Gabriel runs a paper towel under cool water and presses it to his digit before disappearing around the corner with a "Be right back." Less than a minute later he's back with a small plastic box full of bandaids, gauze, sewing needles, and dental floss (just in case). First dabbing a bit of cool antibiotic on his cut, he then wraps it up with a bandaid, just snug enough to stay in place, before kissing it again. "That should do it."

Sam's knees weaken when Gabriel looks at him like that, all soft, glowing crinkly eyes and sideways smile. He can't help leaning in to press a kiss to those lips. "Thanks, Nurse Gabriel." 

"Oo, kinky." Eyebrows waggle and Sam snorts, turning back to his bell peppers and sliding all potentially contaminated pieces into the trash before washing his blade and getting back to chopping. "No, seriously, you starring as Doctor Sam; me starring as your perky assistant, Nurse Gabriel."

The vision of Gabriel's ass in green scrubs springs unbidden to Sam's mind, and he chops down with a vengeance on the next cut, shaking his head with amusement. "Calm down there, Piccolo. You know I'm not that kind of doctor, right?"

"Doctor Sexy! That's my boy. And, for your information," Gabriel leans forward. "It's called roleplaying."

Flushing, Sam rolls his eyes at his slip on the whole... Doctor Sexy thing and stutters, "Dean--makes me watch it."

"Ah-huh," Gabriel sing-songs. "Every Thursday? When he's not even here?" 

Damn, Sam keeps forgetting he knows everything about him. "It's a... guilty pleasure."

"Right," Gabriel draws out the word disbelievingly. "Just keep telling yourself that, Sugarplum." Clapping his hands together, Gabriel looks over the spread Sam has on the countertop. "Now, I have never cooked a thing in my existence, but I am willing to give it a try. What can I help you with?"

Quirking a smile, Sam jerks his chin at the block of cheese he'd already pulled out. "You can grate us some cheese for these omelettes. Grater's in the that drawer."

"Awesome, shouldn't be too hard." Sam watches with amusement as Gabriel fiddles with the grater, flipping it this way and that over a bowl and grunting at it as he tries to work out the best way to shred some cheese.

"How can you know what roleplaying is and not how to grate a block of cheese?" The second the words are out of his mouth it occurs to him that Gabriel wasn't a bit naive when it came to sex earlier. His touches had been anything but fumbling. "In fact, how are experienced at all? I mean, you clearly aren't a virgin, but... how? And who?"

Laughing a bit awkwardly and coughing into his elbow, Gabriel runs his fingers through damp, tangled hair. "Ah, well. Ahem. When it comes to the roleplaying I only know the elements from watching humanity. And porn."

Sam almost slips again but thank god for slippery bandaids because the blade slides right over it. "You watch porn?"

"My dear Sam. Everyone watches porn." 

"Heh," Sam scrapes the peppers into his whisked egg whites and pulls out the bacon, maple syrup, and black pepper. "I know that. But.. angels?"

"You'd be surprised." Gabriel throws him a wink. 

"Well, okay then."

"Anyway, but, I technically haven't had sex for..." He squints. "About a century?"

"Damn!" Sam turns a wide-eyed look at him. "I mean... damn."

"I know, right?" Gabriel chuckles. "Been busy. And then, well, there was you..." he trails off, focusing on the scarlet bowl and sharp tone of cheddar cheese in the air. "But, uh, yeah, sometimes we garrison angels sort of get... time off? Like, I mean... between our protectees, ya know? When the next one hasn't been conceived yet?"

Sam turns those words over in his head, trying to figure out what he's saying. "You mean, when the person your guarding... dies and, what, the next name on your list isn't up yet?" 

Shrugging a shoulder, Gabriel drops his head in a nod. "Well, yeah, pretty much. I mean, technically we're supposed to use that time to... I dunno, 'meditate on the Lord and sing praises to His name' or something. But, I never was the straightest arrow in Cupid's quiver, so... I pretty much came down to earth and had sex with some gods, goddesses..."

While a little part of Sam's soul turns unfairly green at Gabriel having sex with other... beings... (Dude, it's not like you haven't fucked a few people) other than himself, his brain screeches to a halt with what those _beings_ were. "Wait, 'gods'!?"

"Little gods," he says, like that'll make it better, with his hand out low, representing small potatoes. "Not, like, the Big Kahuna or anything. That would be gross."

"Dude--Gabriel--" because surely this angel gets what it means that there are _gods_ roaming the earth.

"Well it's not like I could fuck humans. I did have wings, you know, and people are quicker to grab their pitchforks than their sex oil when a guy with wings starts flirting with 'em." He leans closer confidentially. "Believe me, I know."

"Jesus," Sam shakes his head in wonder. "One day I'm going to sit you down and you're going to tell me everything you know about... _everything._ "

Gabriel flips a twist of hair out of his eyes and gives Sam an amused look. "The things I've got in this stunning head of mine... It'll take more than a conversation."

Sam lays out strips of bacon in the frying pan silently, turning the heat up while he mixes a little maple syrup and pepper in a bowl, Gabriel finally finding a rhythm with the grater. He looks so... perfect standing beside Sam, twin wisps of damp-lank hair falling over his forehead as he works. Like he fits in Sam's little kitchen as much as the white stove or Sam's favorite whisk--or Sam himself. 

"Will we get that chance?" he asks quietly. "To spend days or years or however long it takes for me to learn everything about you?"

The motion of the cheese, now down to half a block, stops. "I... I don't know."

Something falls in Sam's chest, and he quarter turns to Gabriel. "If it's what you were saying earlier, about citizenship and where you would stay and what you would do, I texted my brother and he knows a guy who could get you papers. And Gabe, of course I want you to stay with me. And--"

"That's not it," Gabriel drops the cheese in the bowl, wiping his hands off on a dish towel and turning towards Sam. "Okay, that's not _all_ of it, just a little part. The truth is..." He tangles a hand in his hair. "Well, if we're being honest here, I've fucked up your life enough already, haven't I?" He says the words softly, with no malice.

The bacon starts to sizzle, just beginning to release those delectable fumes as Sam studies Gabriel, wondering if he really believes that. "Gabriel, you-you don't really believe that, do you?"

"Um, yeah Sam, I do."

"You haven't--"

"You _know_ I have," he interrupts. "There's no possible way to deny that, Sam. You've been on a different journey since-since _childhood_ because of a mistake I made." The crack of a slap on the counter splits the air as Gabriel slams his hand down in frustration and looks away. 

"A mistake?" Sam's confusion must be clear as day because Gabriel winces at the look on his face. "What mistake? The first time I saw you, you saved me from that fire. What--" he shakes his head. "Was that a mistake?"

"No, god no, Sam." Like he doesn't even think before he does it, Gabriel squeezes Sam's arm, instantly needing that contact, needing to reassure. It's so new, the ability to connect physically, and yet Sam feels like Gabriel needs it just as much as he does. "Stepping into your life to protect you from that blaze was always meant to happen." Fingers scritch at the material over his elbow, a mindless assurance. "My mistake came after. When we were downstairs? You remember." It isn't a question. "And... that's where I failed."

The smell of the cooking bacon is starting to get stronger, hissing as it cooks, and Sam yanks the pan off the eye, clicking the heat off so he can concentrate. "How did you fail? What are you talking about?"

"Sam... There's a reason the accounts of angels--and especially guardians--are so few and far between. I was supposed to wipe your memory. Or change it, at least."

Sam's breath stutters. That first time, the very first time, when he was five--that moment had been... god, one of the biggest redirects his life had ever taken. The second time, when Sam fell in the lake and then later felt that connection in his chest and spoke to Gabriel for the first time--that was the other one. "W-Why didn't you?" he couldn't help but ask the question, but when Gabriel's face falls he wishes he could snatch it back. "Woah, hey, stop it, whatever you're thinking." He takes his hand and laces their fingers together. "I don't--I wouldn't in a million years--wish you had. I just--I need to know why, is all."

"Actually," he breathes a sigh. "I tried. I swiped the sooty hair from your forehead and pressed my fingers to your temple, but..." his voice fades for a second, his cheek pulling in as he bites it from the inside thoughtfully. "I don't know. There was something... different about you, about the way you're... built. I don't know how to describe it, but when I tried, I was met with resistance. I didn't have time to work at it, to figure it out--your dad was already turning on his heel to run back inside. So I let it go, figured you were so young you'd forget with time, and I pushed you out to meet your family."

Sam thinks back. He doesn't remember Gabriel pressing fingertips to his forehead, but he does remember him glancing anxiously past him out the door before giving him a gentle push in the right direction. While he had no idea Gabriel could have had the power to wipe the memories from his mind, at this point, little surprises him, especially about his angel. He--again--files the part about him being different away for later. "But... did you try again, later? After the lake?"

"Actually... no. I was going to, but... I don't know, something held me back. And then later, when you... sensed me..." He curls a hand in the air. " _Felt_ me. You were--" His lips tug back at the corners in memory. "I don't know," he repeats. "I just couldn't." He breathes out a breath, the distant memories in his eyes fading away. "What this translates to is that, even knowing your inquisitive mind and bullheadedness, I let you remember me. You grew up reading angelology and talking to an apparition outside your window rather than spending sleepovers at friends' houses. And once you got old enough to develop feelings for me--hoo boy." Gabriel runs a hand through his hair stressfully, and Sam can't help but stop him, grab his wrist and ease it from his hair and slide his own palms over those cheeks, up into that golden crown. He pushes Gabriel's hair from his face and kisses him chastely once, twice, three times. 

He breathes against his mouth for a second before pulls back. "Listen, I'll be the first to admit that my connection to you has caused a few bumps in the roadmap of my life." Gabe's gaze goes pained but Sam scritches his fingers in that hair and goes on. "But I wouldn't trade any of it--not one second--for the chance to know you, Gabriel."

Gabriel's chin tilts downwards and a mask comes over his face when he says. "Yeah, alright." 

"Gabe, I mean what I say. Please believe me."

A weak smile twitches one corner of his lips. "I'll try to."

This lackluster reply physically hurts, and Sam has to take a breath, steady his heart. His hands are still on Gabriel's face, but he squares his shoulders a bit and catches his eyes. "Then I'll just have to prove it you, every single day until you don't have to try." He catches his lips with his own, pressing promises into his mouth. It's gentle, a little wet but mostly chaste, soft little kisses. Gabriel's smile is much closer to real this time when he looks up at him. "Okay?" Sam asks.

Gabriel gives a little acquiescent nod. "Okay." White teeth bite into his lip thoughtfully as if he has something else to say but isn't sure how to go about it. "Sam, I... I still can't say what I'm going to tell them, when the time comes."

While he was at least eighty percent sure of that already, Sam still feels a sinking in his stomach and twine around his throat. "I know," he says, a little choked. "But I have another two days to do everything in my power to convince you to stay." Tawny eyes fill up with depth and feeling, so much they're almost unbearable to see, and Sam breaks away, clearing his throat. "First thing I'm gonna do is feed you a delicious brunch. So then, pass me that cheese?"

Aside from Gabriel asking what else he can do and Sam giving him a few small directions, they continue making brunch in silence. With the bacon sizzling, Sam whips up some blueberry pancake batter, and finishes his black pepper maple bacon and their omelettes. It's hardly a healthful breakfast, but today? That's okay. For his angel, he's happy to indulge. He even dusts the pancakes with powdered sugar and heats the maple syrup for an extra treat. 

When they sit down, Sam winces slightly, shifting until his slightly sore ass is a little more comfortable. It's after noon, and even with the weight of Gabriel's words on his mind, Sam is starving. They both dig in with relish, Gabriel going for his pancakes first, Sam his omelette. The perfect amalgamation of eggs, peppers, seasoning, and cheese fills his mouth, and he can't help making a small sound of satisfaction. Still, when Gabriel makes a deep-throated groan that's edging on erotic he arches a brow. The angel's got his eyes closed, his fork halfway between his mouth and plate, and a look of pure bliss on his face. 

"Oh dear god, these pancakes." He blinks a couple of times, getting his eyes to focus on the powdered, blue-spotted flapjacks, and then immediately takes another bite. The moans this time are even accompanied by a whimper, and amusement spirals with jittery heat in Sam's stomach. 

"You like that, Gabriel? Taste good?" Oh fuck. He just keeps from laughing because he really, really didn't intend for those words to sound like that. Fortunately (unfortunately?) for him, Gabriel is apparently too lost in his pancakes to notice.

"Sooo good," he replies. 

Taking a bit of bacon and watching Gabriel devour half of his pancakes in ecstasy, he's fighting down amusement and helpless--almost reluctant--arousal. Watching Gabriel enjoy something so simple is causing the stress he's carrying to pull back, ease into one corner of his mind. Still there, but cool enough he can enjoy this moment. Enjoy his angel. Dropping his chin in a hand Sam asks him, "Have you had pancakes before?"

Gabriel blinks up at him, a dusting of powdered sugar on his lips. "I have, but it's been a long time. I rarely got to eat food like this, but even when I did it... tasted different. Hard to describe, but as a human..." he gazes in wonder at the sweet treat. "I didn't know what I was missing."

Sam grins indulgently, his head filling with all the things he could feed his angel. "Have you tried the bacon yet?"

Shaking his head, his tongue flicking out to swipe away the powdered sugar on his lips, Gabriel takes a bite. Hazel eyes grow like saucers, and Sam's laughing before the curses even fall from his lips. "I don't make it often, but when I do, even Dean dies for my bacon."

They both almost clean their plates, clearly having worked up an appetite that morning. When everything's put away, the counters are wiped down, and the dishes rinsed and neatly stacked in one side of the sink to deal with later, Sam comes up behind Gabriel and wraps him up in his arms. He smells like Sam's shampoo now and he can't help feeling a little gleeful at that. There's still that scent of Gabriel, though, just underneath it, behind his ear and-and--Sam drags his nose up his neck, scenting him. "Mm, we should go out," he murmurs against his skin.

"Wow, that was just the opposite of what I was about to suggest."

Sam chuckles warm in his ear, undeniably intrigued with their positions, just like last night at the park but somehow so much... different this time. Everything is different, sharper, brighter from yesterday--no, actually, from... ever. Gabriel in Sam's home, pressed against him, Gabriel's scent in his nose. The fact that the way they stand now has Gabriel's ass against his groin doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he wouldn't deny that he wants that... sometime. Still, Gabriel's warmth is delicious against his body. _Gabriel_ is delicious. Little teeth marks show on his skin as Sam nibbles up his neck. "As tempting as it is to stay inside all day with you, I think we should go out." Sam wraps his arms around his stomach and crooks his chin over his shoulder. "Show you just a little of what it's like to live on terra firma."

Gabriel is silent for a moment. His hand covers Sam's on his stomach. "In the end, Sam, all that matters is you. I just want to spend time with you--as much as possible. So if you wanna go out, I'm game. Where would you like to go?"

If possible, Sam wraps him up even tighter, nuzzling as he _hmms_ in his ear. "Oktoberfest is going on all week. They have... food, music, rides."

"Ooh, you had me at 'food.' Count me in." Twisting in his arms, Gabriel returns the embrace and kisses him. Soft lips press warmly to his until they're both breathless. When they manage to separate, they put on their shoes before Sam grabs his coat and scarf, wrapping a spare around Gabriel before pulling another too-long coat from his closet. Technically, Gabriel has a jacket--the one he had on last night--but it's thin and half as warm, so Sam says as much, giving him his spare, before telling him they'll make a clothes run after.

"I'll admit yours are just a tad gorilla to my chimpanzee, but they'll do me fine for a few days, Star," Gabriel insists, shrugging into the coat and adjusting the green-gray of his scarf. The cuffed sleeves nearly cover his hands. "Look, won't even need gloves." 

Clicking his tongue, Sam tugs at Gabriel's coat and begins buttoning. "We're making a run," he repeats at those honey colored eyes. His tone of voice warrants no argument, but the flare in Gabriel's eyes speaks books of rebellion. Their dual silence is a clash of stubborn wills as Sam finishes his buttons and smooths his hands over his coat. Growing up with Dean as a brother and Mary as a mother made Sam good at this game, and yet, he can tell already that Gabriel could be his equal if he wanted to. This time, however, he lets him have this. Shoulders drift down and nimble fingers tug and tuck Sam's scarf as Gabriel fixes him back. Trails of warmth follow the drift of Gabriel's fingers over his forehead and through his hair as he tucks some behind an ear.

"Okay, Hugh Hefner, if you wanna be my sugar daddy who am I to argue?"

"Oh my god." Sam cringes as Gabriel barks out a laugh. "Just for that you don't get a kiss." Gabriel's laughing _oh come on_ follows him out the door. He makes it down three flights of stairs before he lets Gabriel back him into a corner and steal a kiss-- _after_ promising to never call him that again.


	10. Chapter 10

They have to park a few blocks from the festival and walk, but with Gabriel's deliciously warm hand insulating his fingers in the chilly air, it doesn’t take too long. The festival sprawls over parts of a few streets with the fountain of the town square in the center, so they pick a direction and amble up and down each vendor-checkered alley. Hubbub fills the air, people talking and laughing, as era-costumed hawkers shout out their wares or pipe novelty greetings, some live music at the square just filtering through the cacophony. It's super cheesy, with the funny clothes and crafts, but also kind of fun and exactly the kind of thing he's always wanted to do with his angel. This is the first time Gabriel has literally been at his side, sharing in his fun like this, joking about the things you could keep warm with the handmade crocheted fruit beanies, making him laugh, pressing into his side and placing chaste kisses to his hand, cheek, or lips. It's... everything.

After the fruit beanie booth (where Sam bought a banana beanie in apology for the blushes caused by Gabriel's not-actually-quite-whispered puns), they head towards the square where the tantalizing scents of roasting food and sweet autumn spices fill the air. 

While they've inevitably gotten a few less-than-friendly scowls for their mild but very gay PDA's, no one has said anything. Sam has no problem defending himself and his sexuality if needed, but, based on the heated _dare you_ glares he's caught on Gabriel's face at least twice, he thinks he probably wouldn't have had to. His angel is still ready to protect him, from anything, and that warms his soul right the fuck up. Security and--and so much more--it winds up his spine and drapes down his shoulders. Tension he didn't even know he was carrying melts away, and he leaves a cold-lipped kiss on Gabriel's temple, leaning into his body and nuzzling his hair as they stroll. "Snack time," he murmurs, as cinnamon, nutmeg, and something so sweet lures them in. "What do you want? Anything. Just say the word."

Jovial eyes look up at him over licked lips, and even under the gray October sky, the golden twilight on grassy green of his eyes is so clear is takes Sam's breath away. "Anything, huh? Maybe I'll order up some kielbasa."

At least blushing warms him up. Sam laughs. "Well, it is a German festival. They probably have lots of sausage."

"Yeeaah," Gabriel quips. "Not, exactly what I had in m--"

"Oooh, vat pretty boys! _Söta, kärleksfulla pojkvänner._ Does boys vant apple? _Godis äpple?_ " The excited, heavily accented voice has Sam and Gabriel looking over at a small stand they were just passing by where a plump woman with rosy cheeks and a long gray dress stands, a boy no more than nine or ten at her side. The glass case just behind her displays apples dipped in various sauces and toppings. " _Godis äpple?_ " She repeats. " _Kommer,_ " she says, gesturing. " _Köp inte din långa stiliga pojkvän ett godis äpple?_?"

Having no idea what she's saying but entreated by her gestures and exuberance Sam steps forward, Gabriel at his side. "I'm sorry, I don't--"

" _Jag skulle, men jag är rädd att min stora pojkvän köper idag_." Sam starts as the foreign words come out in Gabriel's voice. He whips around and stares at him, mouth hanging open.

"You speak _Swedish_!?" Even Gabriel looks a little surprised but only has a chance to give him a half shrug as the woman squeals with excitement and steps forward, hands clasped in front of her as she yabbers away in her native language. "W-What is she saying?" Sam asks.

"She's very excited I know Swedish," Gabriel replies. "She's only been here a few months and doesn't know anyone besides her son who speaks her language." 

"I am Tilda," she says very carefully in English, looking between them excitedly. "Tilda," she repeats with a hand on her chest.

" _Jag är Gabriel, och den här sexiga älgen är Sam.._ " Gabriel squeezes his arm, and with the two words Sam recognized--their names--he gets it's an introduction. For a middle aged woman, Tilda is way too adorable when she giggles, and Sam grins at her fondly.

"It's nice to meet you," Sam says slowly with a smile. Tilda nods warmly as she runs her fingers through her son's hair, who's looking up at Gabriel with some kind of awe in his eyes. She and Gabe go back and forth for a few minutes, speaking in her native tongue while Gabriel fills him in every few lines. Tilda gestures a lot, a dozen expressions crossing her face, and even without knowing what they're saying Sam can't help but laugh along with them. At one point Gabriel kneels and speaks a bit with her son, the boy hiding shyly and the two of them looking so damn cute Sam flushes, grinning. But it's when Tilda writes a phone number on a napkin and folds it into Gabriel's hand, patting it with her own and talking fondly that Sam can't help but whisper. "Should I be jealous?"

Chuckling, Gabriel says something in Swedish, and Tilda throws back her head, then pats his arm, saying, "No, no, no. He ischt very in loving vith you." Warmth fills Sam up, and he grins and laughs as pink dusts Gabriel's cheeks. Like she's completely unable to resist, Tilda pinches one of those cheeks and says a few more words, then tugs him into a hug. To Sam's surprise she hugs him next, her arms vice-like around his back. He's just about to tap her for fear of suffocating when she lets him go. 

When they leave soon after, they go with friendly waves and two caramel-dipped apples that Tilda refused to let Sam pay for. 

"Well that was an experience," Gabriel murmurs, taking a too-big bite of his apple and getting caramel on his lips. 

"Uh, no kidding," Sam agrees with raised eyebrows. "Swedish?"

"That _was_ kind of surprising."

"Ya think?"

He licks the caramel off his lips, and Sam remembers his own apple. He tilts it back and forth, eyeing it. He never did understand how to eat these things. "I mean, as an angel I knew... well, _most_ languages fluently. But that was the kind of knowledge I didn't expect to keep in this human noggin'."

Sam blinks at him. "You thought... because you're human now?"

Gabriel shrugs. "I guess I thought it was like, a preprogrammed angel thing. Since there have been people on the planet and words spoken I've just _known_ how to communicate with them. Figured Dad made us with the knowledge already there." He waves a hand. "It's been kiiind of a long time since you fantastic creatures started writing gay porn, though, so... memories're a _little_ fuzzy on the details."

"Dad?" Sam sinks his teeth into sweet caramel and crisp, mellow apple as they weave between a small cluster of the crowd and continue strolling. 

"Oh right. Well, down here his name starts with _G_ and ends with _od_. Usually with a 'holy' or a 'dear' or an 'oh my' in front of it."

The apple gets inhaled, and Sam coughs ridiculously, trying to catch his breath. "Oh." Sam blinks, feeling like an idiot and thunderstruck at the same time. "You mean--"

"Capital ' _G_ ’ and everything."

"Uh, okay." So like... God's son fucked him this morning. Right. That's something he's definitely not going to be dwelling on. "More on that later."

"Ah-huh," Gabriel hums.

"So," he says once he's swallowed. "Do you know other languages?"

Squinting speculatively, Gabriel _hmms._ " _La polla de mi novio es muy grande._ " They share a look of wonder. "Look at that."

"Do another one."

"Uhm, okay..." Gabriel licks his lips. " _Mon copain a une très belle bite._ " 

Like nothing, he switches again. German, this time, Sam thinks. " _Ich wette, es schmeckt köstlich._ " And _again_ in a language Sam isn't quite sure of. " _Nataka ladha jogoo wa rafiki yangu wa kiume._ " After that he filters through at least another half a dozen in quick succession, effortlessly.

"I knew you were good with your tongue, but damn." Throwing his head back, Gabriel lets out an appreciate laugh. "But really--" he says with a grin. "You're a linguist. That's incredible."

Finding an unoccupied bench, they sit to finish their apples while Gabriel shrugs humbly. "I mean, I've always kind of just _liked_ people. _Got_ people. And knowing their language is a big part of understanding them. I guess somewhere along the way that became a part of like... actually _me_."

That... make sense to Sam, Gabriel understanding people. It clicks with him, and when he really thinks about why... he remembers how he kissed him just that morning, like he figured out every little thing that made him pant and croon and gave that to him. It's not just a recent thing though. All those years, with that connection between them--the drift and flow of unspoken feeling almost always told him exactly what he needed to know. Sometimes when he didn't even know he needed anything.

They sit and eat, bite by bite, their sticky candy apples, comfortable in their silence, watching the tide of the crowd and listening to the sounds of humanity. Once they've tossed their stick-stuck apples cores in a convenient trashcan, and are sitting shoulder to shoulder, Sam tilts his head. "Hey, why did Tilda give you her number?"

"Oh." Gabriel pats the pocket where he stashed it. "She really wanted someone who speaks her language to teach her English. Said that she needs to be able to talk to someone face to face who can easily switch between them. I told her I might not be around, but… she insisted."

"Oh," Sam mimics. Willfully, he chooses to focus on the teaching part. "Gabriel, wow. You would be an amazing teacher."

He snorts. "Right."

"No, I'm serious." He squeezes Gabriel's knee. "You get people--you said it yourself. And you know the language fluently. You could teach Tilda. Or... _anyone._ " Gabriel's look is doubtful but sort of... flattered and almost interested. "I'm not just saying this. I think you'd be amazing." The glimmer of Gabriel's eyes is back, deep and star like. There's a thin sheen of caramel on his lips that's too tempting, so Sam leans forward to lick it off and presses their mouths together, kissing him far more deeply than either of them have allowed themselves since leaving home.

When he pulls back Gabriel is smiling up at him. "You're something else, you know that?"

Sam grins, hypnotized. "Just honest."

The clop of hooves and trundle of wooden wheels draws them both from their trances, looking up at a hay-filled wagon full of kids, teens, and one young couple as it makes its way down the street, a big sign that reads Hayrides on Harvest on its side. They watch it pass and then Gabriel waggles his eyebrows at him. "Hey Stargazer, wanna go roll in the hay with me?"

 

***

 

The afternoon slips away with the festival--the music, the cheesy games, the fun. They ride the hay wagon twice, once like normal and then again right before closing when the sun is sinking in the sky. Sam pays the driver extra, and he takes just the two of them on a slow ride around downtown's park, circling the gazebo under the trees where twinkly lights glow in the twilight. It's soft and sweet, and Sam snaps selfies of them with his phone. In the first one they're both smiling, the next one he takes with Gabriel's lips on his cheek, and the third is blurry because Gabriel scooped hay on his head just as he was taking it and is laughing big and incorrigible.

After the fest they run their errands, first to store where they find Gabriel some clothes he likes that actually fit him (more clothes than Gabriel wants, fewer than Sam does) and then to the store so Sam can restock his fridge, dismally empty as it is after last week. 

When Sam suggests dinner, Gabriel arches an eyebrow at him. "You askin' me out on a date, Big Boy?"

The question has Sam's insides lighting up like a firefly. "Yeah... Yeah, I think I am."

Smile softening, Gabriel tilts his head. "Well, alright then."

After stopping off at home to put away the groceries, feed the critters, and change, they go out. Nothing too fancy, but nice enough to have cloth napkins and a warm atmosphere. Gabriel gets mango relish chicken with sweet potato fries and talks Sam into ordering a steak instead of a salad, promising with a wink he'll shave those calories off later. After feeding each other a way too decadent dessert to the delighted squeals of their waitress (because apparently they're "disgustingly adorable"), they're both stuffed and decide to take a short walk around the block before heading home.

With a jangle of a bell, they step out into the night, jackets unbuttoned and scarfs thrown around necks. From one breath to the next, Sam's pretty sure frost forms in his lungs, and he makes a shivery sound, hunching his shoulders and flipping his coat collar. 

"Brrr, night sure sucked the warmth right out of 'er, didn't he?" Gabriel quips, making another loop around his neck with his scarf.

"'He,' huh?" Hands in pockets, Sam starts a stroll down the sidewalk, hoping to keep at least a bit of his warmth with movement.

"Oh yeah, definitely," Gabriel answers next to him. "Big and gay if you ask me."

His warm chuckle rumbles in his throat. It's surprisingly quiet out. A few cars come and go, but the cold night air is still, lamplights breaking up the darkness in glowing patches. "I mean, the moon _is_ a big ball."

"Exactly!" Gabriel agrees. "And it revolves around an even bigger one. All kinds of gay kinkiness there."

"Oh my god," Sam proclaims with a fond eyeroll. "The conversations I find myself having with you."

"What can I say? Lucky you got the hottest, funniest, most obnoxious angel in the garrison."

"Oh, I am lucky," Sam agrees unfalteringly and watches the lamplight glow on apple cheeks as they pass another post. Contentment in this moment is almost perfect, the huge black sky spread above them, the stars hiding from the light but there, weaving invisible memories. A long day nearing its end but lived and laughed to its fullest. The one person he wants more than anything in the world beside him. Yeah... the only thing that could make this better is if he knew he could keep him. And, well, it could be a _bit_ warmer. A shiver bites up his spine and curls around his sides, and Sam loops his arm through Gabriel's, leaning into his warm side. "Mm, I'm cold," he breathes.

"Well that won't do at all!" The corner has come up on them, but instead of crossing Gabriel herds Sam back against a lamppost, somehow crowding him in despite his shorter stature.

"What are you doing?" Damn, Sam's cheeks are beginning to hurt from how much he's been smiling today, and yet he can't seem to stop.

Gabriel's pocket-warmed hands place Sam's under his jacket on Gabriel's waist, slinking into the made circle of his arms. "Warming up my Sam-sicle. Now hold me tight." Chuffing amiably, Sam does as he's told, sliding his hands around Gabriel's back, until his coat flaps around elbows. "Mmm, perfect." Gabriel's hands slide up over Sam's neck and into his hair as he presses in closer, erasing pretty much all space between them. Delicious warmth soaks into him everywhere they're touching, warming parts of him that he didn't even know were cold, and a happy sounding hum escapes him to a spark of smug satisfaction from Gabriel. "That's much better, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it totally is," he admits. "Now if only we could walk back to the car this way."

"Eh," Gabriel says. "The car can wait." Smiley crinkles form at the corners of his eyes in a way that Sam is quickly falling in love with.

"But then we'll have to stay out here in the cold," Sam points out with maybe just a little bit of a pout. 

"Oh, I bet I could make it better." His gaze drops down Sam's face, and Sam licks his lips in anticipation. The hands on the back of his head guide Sam down for a kiss, except... right before they meet, Gabriel tilts his head and presses a warm kiss right over his frozen nose. "There," he says. "Warmer?"

Sam snorts. "Thanks, Gabe. Really helped."

"You know, I'm kinda sensing you're... unamoosed."

"Oh dear god," Sam just-- _just_ \--keeps from laughing. "You are incorrigible."

"I like you too."

Rolling his eyes and flashing his teeth in the darkness, he arches a brow. "As nice as it is to be pressed to your body, we still have half a block to walk. And there are advantages to getting to the car," Sam says, wriggling out of Gabriel's embrace and walking backwards. He feels the slope of the sidewalk as it turns into the crosswalk of the street and maintains his balance. "Like... a _heater_."

It's Gabriel's expression that tells him something's wrong first. His hands are still spread in a gesture with his comment when Gabriel's gaze flicks to the left and then back again, something like fear, or... or terror, taking over his face. The lights--the headlights--shining on him is the second thing. A profound sense of stupidity rises up inside of him when he looks right into the glare of white and he realizes a car is coming. Why the fuck didn't he check the street before stepping out into it? Gabriel shouts something he thinks, but Sam doesn't hear because the blare of horn and the rush of blood in his ears is drowning out all sound.

He doesn't even really know what happens, only that the next second he's wrapped up in Gabriel's arms, and Gabriel's tugging him back farther as the car rips past him and swerves slightly, horn still blaring. Screeching tires fill the night air as it tears around a corner and disappears. And Gabriel is still hauling him backwards, practically lifting him, onto the sidewalk, stumbling back until Gabriel’s back hits the brick wall of a business. He's panting--no, they're _both_ gasping, and clinging to each other, and the fucking second he realizes what almost happened, he chokes, " _Oh my god,_ " and wraps around Gabriel, wishing he could just crawl inside of him. 

" _Sh, sh, shh,_ " Gabriel hushes in his ear, running his hands up his back and through his hair, over his sides, checking him, making sure he's okay, soothing him. "Shh," he breathes, and Sam _shakes_ , face buried in Gabriel's neck.

Gabriel's arms are vice-like around his back, but he's shaking just as fucking much as Sam is--maybe more, and when Sam feels like he can _breathe_ again, he realizes he needs to reassure Gabriel just as much as he’s reassured him. "I'm okay," he says, but his voice is a little shaky, so he firms it up and tries again, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "I'm okay. I'm _okay_."

"I almost lost you," Gabriel chokes, his voice rough.

"But you didn't. Gabe, you didn't." The pain and fear all over Gabriel's face has Sam sliding back into his arms, kissing reassurances over his neck and jaw. "I'm okay."

"If I had been... _one second_ slower--"

Anguish rakes through Sam's chest. "You weren't. Gabe, don't fucking think that. Don't think it. You were fast enough, and I'm okay." He looks into the tortured eyes he loves so goddamn much and commands him. "Hug me. Kiss me." 

Gabriel does both. He kisses him hard, and Sam kisses him back just as rough, fingers in coat collars and white knuckled on sleeves. They kiss like that a desperate few times before it changes. Gabriel presses into him, but this time, his lips are firm and slow, kissing him deep, kissing him soft. It's almost... hesitant, but no less penetrating, Gabriel clutching at him like he's the most important thing in the universe. Pawing at his clothes, the softest ghostly brushes of his palm over his cheek, the press of his lips that say... so much. Sam feels like his chest is unlocked, his soul raw and shivering in Gabriel's palms. All his. All his own.

When they finally do break apart, they embrace, holding each other until the shudders die down to nothing but cold, and then they hold on a little longer.

"Fuck, you're cold," Gabriel whispers eventually, running his palms up his back to try to pass on his warmth. "We need to get you to the car."

"I'm okay," Sam says, but his chattering teeth betray him, and he forces out a chuckle. "Alright, maybe I'm a little cold. And-And we should get home."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam squeezes his hand and watches him return his nod with eyes that glisten before they finally move. They probably look up and down the street a dozen times before they cross, and they go quickly, their hands clenched together almost painfully between them. When they get to the car, Sam cranks the heat up and warms his painfully tingling, frozen hands a minute or two before placing them on the wheel. His desire to be home and wrapped up in Gabriel makes him want to push down on the gas, but he forces his foot light and their pace slow. An accident, right now especially, would be tragic.

They drive in silence, but when an errant thread of jittery nerves finds him, he squeezes the wheel with his left hand and Gabriel's knee with his right. Eyebrows tense, Gabriel looks at him, then covers his hand with his own. Just feeling Gabriel's touch, feeling the connection again, peace fills his lungs like in inhale. The stress of what just happened isn't completely gone, but as long as he's with Gabriel, he's okay.

On the elevator ride Gabriel doesn't reach for him like Sam expects, but he accepts Sam's arm around him. Leans into him a bit.

The silence when they get in is only interrupted by the clump of their shoes as they toe them off and the susurrus of their coats as they hang them up with their scarves. Gabriel's eyes are shadowier than Sam has ever seen them. His usually confident shoulders hunched. With every sideways glance Sam takes, his heart clenches a little more.

He's still looping his scarf around a tine when Gabriel turns. He takes a few steps towards the living room but doesn't go any farther, just stops there. Taking a silent breath Sam surveys him, gaze drifting from his sad shoulders, helplessly landing on his denim-wrapped ass before traveling all the way down and back up again. He has the faint, whispering thought that the better-fitting clothes look damn good on him before he crosses to Gabriel and slides his hands around his stomach. Gabriel's heady musk and appley sweetness, mixed with Sam's shampoo fill Sam's nose when he drops his chin to his shoulder. It's familiar already, this scent. Smells like home.

Like in the elevator, Gabriel leans into his touch now that he has it, and Sam sighs a little _Mmm_ of approval. Gabriel's arms cover Sam's around his waist, not holding him still, just hugging him back in the only way he can. 

"You know," Sam murmurs, letting his hands glide upwards over his shirted abdomen. He presses a kiss to his shoulder, just inside his collar. "I was admiring these new clothes on you." Gabriel doesn't say anything, but his head falls back a bit, exposing his neck to Sam. Another kiss on his shoulder and Sam's hands drift up, his left gliding over his right pec. The raised peak of his bud grazes Sam's palm, even through his shirts, and Sam makes a sound deep in his throat. 

Gabriel's fingers tense on the back of Sam's hand when he starts kneading at it silently, not even pretending to fight his distraction. The panting desire to plant his lips on that nub has Sam kissing wetter over his neck until his tongue dips into the curve at the base of his throat. Feels the sandpaper graze of shadow under his tongue when he licks up. "This shirt," he murmurs, dragging his hand up and popping a button. "White. Crisp. Hugging your back. It does things to me."

Gabriel’s hand covers his, but he doesn’t stop him, just moves with him.

While he slips a hand under the collar over Gabriel's undershirt, he kisses up his neck and nibbles at the sensitive spot right at the edge of his jaw. For the first time, Gabriel makes an approving sound, a soft sound, a sort of... whimper. Sam sighs out a pleased breath and moves lower over Gabriel's abs, his stomach, with Gabriel's hand, ever covering his, just to feel every move he makes.

"You know what else I admired?" he questions in his ear. Fingertips slide over the edge of coarse denim. "Your jeans. Not too long, not too loose, but just right, wrapping your beautiful legs, your firm ass, your--" When he finds Gabriel already tenting his pants, he breaks off on a moan, feeling his own half hard cock stiffen so hard and so fast. " _Gabe_." Gabriel squeezes his wrist, not stopping him, just... _reacting,_ with Sam's hand hot and heavy over his cock, rubbing him through his pants. Yes, yes, they need this, need to feel each other.

" _Nnn_ ," Gabriel pants. "S-Star."

This is only the second word he's gotten from him and a wave of exhilaration hits him is so strong he's almost dizzy with it. "Yes, Gabe, I'm yours, and this--" he skims over Gabriel's length, rubs down his hardened cock, "--this is mine." A moan slips from Gabriel's lips, and he grinds a little helplessly into Sam's hand. When he pulls away, he whines and tightens his grip on Sam's wrist but lets him go. He really isn't going far. He tugs at Gabriel's belt, pops open the button, and drags down his zipper. Even through his straining boxers Gabriel is hot in Sam's hand, hot and hard and--

Sam bites into Gabriel's shoulder to keep back the sounds he wants to make and pulls Gabriel through the opening of his boxers. The feeling of his silky length in his hand already has blood shooting downwards, but when he looks over Gabriel's chest and sees that gorgeous cock, flushed hard in the funnel of his hand with Gabriel's fingers so tight around his wrist he knows there'll be bruises there later, he can't bite back the words on his tongue. "Gabriel, Gabriel, you're everything I want."

"F-Fuck, Sam," Gabriel stutters, jerking through his hand when Sam jacks him. "Y-You're perfect."

"What," Sam says, licking the taste of sweat under an earlobe. "You like that?" He tugs on Gabriel's cock at the same time he flicks his tongue up the shell of his ear, trying to make this good, wanting his Gabriel to feel _good_. To forget about what almost happened and just-just _feel_. 

Gabriel's weight falls back into the circle of his arms with a broken _Yeah, fuck yes_. It's dry, so not the smoothest handjob, but Gabriel is fucking _silky_ in his palm, and Sam swipes up a drop of precome at his tip, smoothing it around his head. "I want to make you c--" He breaks off in a strangled gasp when Gabriel thrusts back against Sam's erection. His jaw hooks over Gabriel's shoulder and he pants. The wonderful pressure of Gabriel's ass pushing up against his suddenly throbbing cock has his hand stuttering. "Fuck, _Gabe._ "

"No," Gabriel says quietly, his voice a little broken as he thrusts through Sam's hand and then back against his cock. "You're going to come first."

Abruptly, Gabriel spins around, his grip on Sam's wrist flipping but remaining tight and secure around him. Only one light is on--at the entryway--so it's dim and shadowy, but Gabriel's eyes are dark, his lips bitten, and he looks fucking wrecked already. "You're so gorgeous," Sam breathes in the subsequent beat of silence. A hint of surprise flickers in Gabriel's eyes, followed by a sweet little _idea_ of a smile, and then Gabriel pushes him back. He hits the wall with force, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a picture near his head rocking, a gasp of Gabriel's name on his lips because... fuck, that was hot. As tall as Sam is he's not used to being outpowered, but when he tests Gabriel's grip on his chest, his wrist, he _knows_ Gabriel could keep him right here, pinned to the wall if he wanted to and the shudder of heat that courses through him at that thought has him arching against the wall. 

"Jesus christ, Sam." Gabriel's eyes darken impossibly more, groaning at the cant of Sam's hips. "You took the words right outta my mouth." His tongue flicks out to wet his lips. "Gorgeous."

Sam's heart flutters. God, what this man does to him. Mimicking his tongue swipe, he stares at his lips, hoping for a kiss because standing here with Gabriel's hands on him, he doesn't want to move. Gabriel would let him if he wanted to, but he wants to stay right here if that's where his angel wants him. 

The heat of Gabriel's palm trails up to his neck as Gabriel leans into him and Sam thinks he's going to get his wish. Except Gabriel stops and... and oh god, sinks to his knees with a trail of heat down Sam's body. Sam sucks in a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"G-Gabriel," he whispers. A tiny, tiny smirk crooks up one side of those pert lips, and Sam swears blood floods his mouth with how much he wants to kiss him. _Later, later_ he think as electricity buzzes in his veins with the sweep of Gabriel's thumbs under his rucked up shirt. Gabriel makes a small, crooning sound before he drags his tongue over the sliver of midriff he's revealed and then licks up to his belly button, disappearing under the ruffle of his shirt. And then he's--he's sucking at his dip and swirling his fucking talented tongue and f-f--

"Fuck, that feels good." Sam whimpers, actually whimpers, and drops his head back against the wall, shamelessly pushing his stomach at Gabriel's face. His throbbing need is pushing against his jeans, hard and ignored. It's so impossible not to touch himself, to relieve some of the aching pressure, but Gabriel is lapping at his stomach, and Gabriel-- _Gabriel_ is in charge. Silky smooth strands run through Sam's fingers as he grasps at his angel's hair and hangs on for dear life. 

Just when he thinks he's going to break or explode or something and beg Gabriel for how much he needs him, delicious pressure glides over his cock, and Sam's vision whites. He arches into the touch, biting back a yell and feeling like he's gonna come in his pants if he just--if Gabriel just--" _Nngh_ \--yes! Just like that! Don't s-stop, Baby. Oh god--" He whines when that perfect touch moves away and tugs at his shirt, popping half the buttons so Gabriel's flushed face and slick lips and dark eyes can look up at him. He groans at Sam and nuzzles into his stomach. 

"I love this stomach." It's-It's so sweet, but the way he says it, the tone of his voice--it sounds so much more like himself since they got home that Sam basically congeals with the wall. Love, pure, unfiltered, bright, spreads through every one of Sam's bones and he looks down at his angel, stroking so tenderly through his hair.

"Gabe," he whispers. _I love you._ The words--suddenly they're there, in the shape of his lips, and Sam wants to say it. He's-He's _ready._ Except... Gabriel is on his knees, and they're both... a little crazy from need, and he can't say it. Not yet. 

It takes almost everything he has to push the words down again, but when he has just enough control, he channels everything he's feeling and packs it all into one word. " _Angel._ "

The light he'd been missing from Gabriel's eyes since the almost accident flickers on again, and Sam swears he knows precisely what he's saying.

"Worry not, oh anxious one," he says with a tip of his chin. "I got you."

Sam's pants end up kicked to the side on the floor, his bare feet leaving imprints on the cold tile. His shirt is still halfway open, falling to either side of his abdomen, leaving his hips free, his cock straining towards the ceiling. And... Gabriel. Gorgeous, tender, funny, sweet-toothed Gabriel is eyeing him like he's the biggest piece of rock candy he's ever seen. When he licks his lips Sam bites himself lip to keep from whimpering, his cock twitching in the air before Gabriel's nose. Gabriel moans and blinks up at him. "I love you."

Sam's insides melt like chocolate while precome drips from his cock. He's about to tell him just how much those words mean to him, but he doesn't get a chance when lips wrap around his cock and all thoughts are pushed to the back of his mind. He makes a choking sound when Gabriel waits point zero one seconds to start pushing down on his cock and swirling his tongue around the head like it's a fucking jawbreaker. "Jesus--fu-- _huuuuh_ \--Gabe!" His head hits the wall, sting searing through his hands as he slaps them back and strains his hips, unintentionally pushing his cock just a little bit more into the perfect seal of Gabriel's lips. A muffled sound escapes Gabriel, and at first he isn't sure if it's pleasure or discomfort, but then his eyes flick up at him and they're so fucking dark and, yeah, yeah, ten seconds flat. That’s how long it’s taken Gabriel to put him on the edge. "Fuck, Gabe, you're so incredible."

What passes as a smile lights up Gabriel's eyes wickedly as his lips stretch around him and his hand dips under Sam's cock to roll his balls between his fingers and then grip the base of his cock and bobs. Slick, wet heat pulses up and down his cock and it's--god, indescribable. Pitiful sounds fall from his lips as he switches from shutting his eyes in pleasure to staring down, unblinking, at his perfect fucking angel. It feels so freaking intense every time Gabriel's gaze flicks up to meet him. 

Gabriel twists his hand, grunting as he shuffles closer, letting Sam's cock slip a little more into his throat. His other hand slips down to, Sam thinks, brace himself, and he does push against the tile and roll onto Sam's cock like a gorgeous porn star, but it doesn't come back up to grip his hips. Gabriel's cheeks suction, his eyes rolling shut as he grunts, his fucking mind-shattering blowjob getting a little wetter as he--oh _fuck,_ he's--

Sam's hips jerk before he can stop them, fisting a hand in Gabriel's hair as he hunches forward to get a better look at the--at the-- _Nngh,_ perfect, pearling tip of Gabriel's cock as it blinks in and out of view with the pump of his fist.

"Oh, Gabe," Sam swears. "Gabe. _Baby._ " He whimpers, making very, very minute jerks that he can't seem to stop into his perfect mouth. But Gabriel grabs onto an asscheek and tugs him forward as if to say _Don't stop_ and Sam almost, _almost_ comes right then. "Gabe, f--uck- _Gabe_ ," he gasps, trying to hold on. "I'm gonna--g-gah-you have to-to--oh _crap_ \--" He breaks off with the hum of Gabriel's voice as he sinks down on Sam's cock and Sam can't--he--

"P-Perfect, so hot, so perfect--" he gasps, pumping into Gabriel's mouth once, twice, three times--and fucking groans as pleasure rolls over him like a wave. " _Nnngg--gaaahh,_ " he groans, thrusting weakly as cum shoots from his cock directly down Gabriel's throat.

His perfect angel sucks him sloppy until it's too much, and he sinks, weak-kneed to the floor, shuddering still and trying hard to get his mind back on track so he can help Gabriel get the rest of the way there. Instead, when his vision clears, all he can do is tug Gabriel to him and clash their lips together. The taste of himself is there on Gabriel's lips, and Sam croaks, pulling him close and licking into his mouth, so spent and yet so desperate to feel his lips. To push this feeling he has into Gabriel's mouth and to show him just how much he adores him, loves him, _wants_ him all the damn time. 

Gabriel groans as they kiss and warmth hits Sam's abdomen. It takes just a few seconds of Gabriel whimpering into their kiss for his foggy brain to figure out that, oh my god, he _came_. Groaning, he licks past his mouth and until Gabriel’s panting and weak, trembling through the aftershocks. He extricates himself slowly, placing one last kiss on swollen lips before pulling away.

Gabriel, oh, Gabriel looks fucked. Almost completely clothed, staring at Sam like he's everything he's ever wanted... And like he wants to carry him to the bedroom for round two.

Somehow they sink into another kiss, messy as they are, cold on the floor, and breathless. 

"I never want to stop kissing you," Gabriel's voice is rough and hot, and how can Sam resist him? Will he ever learn? He smiles against his lips because probably not.

It's likely only a few minutes, but it feels like they stay on the floor for a long time, until the cum on Sam's stomach gets cold and gross and a light shiver takes up in his muscles.

"Mmm, we gotta get up." Sam opens his eyes reluctantly, watching Gabriel blink slowly at him, looking debauched and beautiful. Reluctantly, they do, helping each other stand and cleaning up what little cum made it to the floor with paper towels before shuffling to the bathroom.

Sam is... well, drained, and Gabriel is obviously exhausted from the long day and the recent adrenaline rush, but Sam turns on the shower anyway, to extra hot, if only to get rid of the chill in his bones... and the cum. 

For a few minutes under the hot spray they lean together, rivulets of silky smooth heat rolling off them. Sam feels... half asleep in a pleasantly exhausted way... so much so that he doesn't immediately realize that Gabriel's gently pushed him back and begun scrubbing him down. It's when he massages soap into his shoulders, pressing his thumbs into tendons and muscles that he notices, and groans his approval. He soaps him all the way down, even tenderly cleaning his cock, balls, and ass, before making his way to his feet and soaping between each toe, and then shuffling them around so Sam's more fully in the spray. _I need to get a bigger shower,_ he thinks idly as water cascades luxuriously down his back and he loops his arms around Gabriel's neck. 

"I would stay here all night, handsome, but the water would get cold eventually, and I still gotta soap up."

"Oh," Sam murmurs, reluctantly letting him go. "I can do that," he offers.

"I got this." Droplet studded eyelashes flutter up at him, and Sam's heart skips a beat. With an upward tilt of his lips, he says, "You just stay there and get warm." 

When he's done, Sam squeezes shampoo in his hands and reaches for Gabriel. "Oh," he says, "I wasn't going to wash my hai--okay," Gabriel breaks off as Sam ignores him and dips his fingers in gold.

Scritching over his scalp and massaging the spicy-smelling soap in his hair, he leans in to whisper in his ear. "I like making you smell like me." There's a stray drop of water on his cheek that Sam licks up, watching affectionately as Gabriel's eyes darken noticeaby.

"Ahem, well then by all means," Gabriel croaks.

It doesn't take them long to go through the rest of their nightly rituals, and they mutually, silently agree to simply crawl into bed afterwards. Gabriel is there first, his pillow covered with a towel to save it from his wet hair, and his arms open. That glowing, happy feeling spreads so far in his chest it pierces his soul. He doesn't wait a moment to take his place on that chest, throwing a leg over Gabriel's and snuggling into him until they're as close as they can get. A sigh bubbles up his throat because this… this is contentment. It feels so good laying here, like they've done it a thousand times... and yet Sam still wants ten thousand more. 

Constellations draw onto his neck and shoulder as they settle in, not quite ready to sleep but too tired to do anything but snuggle. He wasn’t much of a snuggler before, but with Gabe… it’s bliss. When their breaths sync up he counts time by them, pressing a kiss to Gabriel's jaw just because he can.

It's not surprising when thoughts of what happened not two hours ago filter through his mind. His lashes flutter at the glare of the headlights, his heart racing at the echoic memory of the braying horn, and he nuzzles Gabriel's chest to remind himself he's here, home, _safe_. He had come this close to a stupid accident, and Gabriel... Gabriel had saved him again.

Without a word, Gabriel's arms tighten around him, a trembling hand pressing into his skin. Without asking he knows he's thinking the same thoughts. "I'm okay.” He rubs his lips over every freckle he can reach.

"You almost weren't, though. You almost weren't. And I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing. I couldn't heal you, I couldn't save you, I couldn't--"

Sam's _Shhhh…_ silences him for the moment, though he can tell he's not done yet. "That didn't happen. You were fast enough."

"This time," Gabriel lets out on a breath. He gently pulls Sam's hair from the crease of his neck before smoothing his fingers through it. "What about next time? If something happens and you're hurt too badly for me to help in this human body? Or what if I'm not even there? I can't be with you constantly like this, I can't hear your prayers, and if I stay, there won't be another angel to protect you. You could get seriously hurt, and I can't--I couldn't stand it if--"

"Gabe, baby." Sam pushes up on an elbow, an ache in his chest growing bigger with every one of Gabriel's worries. "You can't think like that."

"I-I have to."

"No."

"One more day, and then I have to make a decision that could mean life or--" Sam covers Gabriel's mouth to stop his torrent. Eyes narrow at him adorably, and he has to resist the urge to chuckle, taking a breath instead and ordering his thoughts.

"Tonight, you saved me, Gabriel. You were there when I needed you like you always are. And these arms? These arms are my safe place. There isn't anywhere in the world I feel safer." He doesn't quite smile at Gabriel, but he comes close. "It's true we don't know what the future holds. You're right--something could happen to me. But you know what? That's okay. If I get to have more nights and days like this with you, that's okay. I would take a year, a month, being with you than six decades without you." The faint light reflects a shimmery haze in Gabriel's almond eyes, nostrils flaring to draw in needed oxygen. It's then that Sam knows. The timing he was looking for... it's now, and if he holds it in a second longer he might burst. "Gabriel, I love you." The way those words fit in his mouth feels so perfect, he says it again. "I love you." He feels so light, he feels like he could fly, he doesn’t even need wings. The widened eyes beneath him shut tight, and a single tear escapes. Sam slides his hand from his mouth.

"Star," Gabriel gasps, stroking a hand over Sam's head. "Star, you really mean that?"

He's unable to stop his grin from growing. "I don't say things I don't mean."

"No, you really don't, do you?" The words are barely out when Gabriel tugs him down and fits their mouths together. Sam melts into him and they kiss each other deep for how long, Sam doesn't even know. But when they do fall asleep, it's as a tangle of limbs, hardly knowing where one of them ends and the other begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the translations were made using Google Translate. If you're curious what Gabriel and Tilda said to each other, these are the translations:
> 
> Sweet, loving boyfriends  
> Candy apple  
> Candy apple  
> You come  
> Won't you buy your big, handsome boyfriend a candy apple?
> 
> I would, but I'm afraid my big boyfriend is buying today.
> 
> I'm Gabriel and this sexy moose is Sam.
> 
>  
> 
> The rest of what Gabriel says in several other languages was basically "My boyfriend has a big dick" or "I want to taste it" ;-)
> 
> If you want take a minute to leave me a kudos or comment~ <3


	11. Chapter 11

The dreams that haunt Sam’s sleep are strange but he doesn’t remember them. Not the details anyway… only a feeling of loss and pain, before comfort wrapped around him and the dreams slipped away. 

He wakes up peacefully, half on his stomach, a hot weight on his back. Fingertips graze his ribs under his rucked up shirt, little points of fire that have him settling into his pillow with a content breath. He knows who keeps the bad dreams away.

His thoughts filter sluggishly through his mind. His heart jumps before he even remembers why… remembers that it's the last day. _The last day._ Air whistles through his nose, a heaviness that's not caused by the weight of the torso on top of him squeezing his lungs. _It's not enough time. Not even close._ The sheet shushes him at the clench of his hands in its silky thread count, a twinge of pain lighting up his stiff shoulders with the flex, and he breathes out a sigh. _It's not the really last day. He loves you. He'll come back._ He doesn’t know how true that is, but does make him feel better… a little. And he hangs on to that. He can make it. He can make it through today. _Through tonight._

But damn if he can make it through right now. He rolls his shoulders and puffs, reluctant to move. But god, does he need to stretch. Gritting his teeth, he eases off the bed, trying hard to sneak away without disturbing Gabriel. He thinks he's going to make it when a hand shoots out and latches onto his wrist. Muffled words that sound close to, _Where do you think you're going?_ are mumbled into the pillow. "Not far,” he answers.

"Mmph.” He’s grumpy and he’s cute and, Sam really wishes he wasn't as charmed as he is. He presses a kiss to a vulnerable temple.

"Baby? I need my arm.” He grumbles indecipherable sounds, but the grip slips away and Sam is finally able to straighten. 

Taking the opportunity to stretch, he grunts and then releases his breath and shakes the remaining kinks from his body before heading into the bathroom and taking care of his most pressing needs. Deciding to wait for Gabriel to shower, he exits the bathroom and lets his eyes adjust to the dimmer, curtained morning light… that is especially dim. It must be a cloudy morning.

When he can see well enough, his gaze drifts down to Gabriel and catches on the arch of the underside of his foot. It’s sticking out from the clinging sheets, toes tucked against the mattress, heel ruddy and achilles tendon bunched. And… there’s something about it, bare and vulnerable, that seizes his heart. Catches his breathe. It’s… intimate seeing the bare foot of his man, wrapped up in his bed, soaking the sheets in his scent.

His gaze lingers for longer than it should, until his eyes are drawn to the twist of sheet around his calf, twisted with his hitched pajama pants. The kerfluffle of bedding hides most of the curves of his midsection, but the rise of his ass is still outlined in stark creams and grays and Sam follows it with saliva filling his mouth. He’s rolled over so his lower half is pointed at his corner of the bed while his fingers make indentations where Sam was just lying. His face is turned towards him on the pillow his other arm is stuffed under, the shadow of his morning beard highlighting the bolt of his jaw. His eyes are closed, skin smooth, and soft breaths whisper through slightly parted lips. 

Sam’s fingers itch to comb through the hair on his forehead. His lips ache to press kisses to those parted lips, to the graze on his jaw, and each knuckle laid out on the bedspread. To the arch of his foot and his ruddy heel. He wants to slip under his arms and curl up against his chest and be held all day and every night. _Every night for the rest of my life…_

It’s big. Lion-sized, this feeling inside of him, and he takes in air to keep his feet steady on the ground. 

_He should sleep_ , he thinks. _He deserves it._

Swallowing back his desire to touch and kiss, he takes out his phone from his discarded pants in the entryway and snaps two pictures. Neither is great in the poor lighting, but he can still make out Gabriel’s shadowy form and the golden hue of his foot in the first one, and his eyes are captured by the other one. It’s a close up, with just the bumps of his knuckles and the turn of his face against the pillow, and it’s perfect.

Indulging in one last look, he slips quietly from the room, closing the door so he won’t wake him up. Since his phone is still in his hand, he glances down at his stolen pictures for a moment before he swipes out to check his missed messages from yesterday. He has a few from work, a couple from mom, and another from Dean. He replies to the work texts first, suggesting treatments and reassuring his co-workers that he is definitely okay and will be back next week. Mom’s are just checking in because they haven’t talked for a few days. But for a brief moment, he stares at the message that asks **Anything new?** And he considers telling her about Gabriel. Calling her up and telling her… well, everything. He dismisses the idea,though. Right now, he doesn’t want to share Gabriel, even the knowledge of him. He wants to keep him selfishly to himself. And besides, he should wait. Until he knows, one way or another. Nibbling the meaty inner flesh of his lip, he replies simply, telling her he’s good and that he’ll call her tomorrow, and doesn’t say anything else.

That done, he shoots off a couple of messages to Dean to let him know he’s good, and then with no sign of Gabriel waking up, he puts Maanen and Rigel into their hamster balls for some exercise while he takes care of their cages and gives Vega some lettuce and crushed kibble. 

He’s shaken from his amused smile at the fruit beanie from the festival on his greenest banana by a crash of thunder and blinks up in surprise. “Huh,” he mutters, watching the flicker of lightning through the curtains before padding to them. He pulls the drapery aside and looks out at the view of neighborhood roofs and gray streets, made grayer by the falling the rain. Now that he’s closer and aware, he can hear it, the pattering against the window and the trickling down the pane in steely blue streaks. 

A thunderstorm. 

Streetlights cast a golden haze like starbursts in the gray, the autumn leaves of the trees along the block even more vividly scarlet. It looks like a persistent kind of rain, a soaking rain that slogs all day long. Sam settles back on his heels with satisfaction, watching the silky droplets streak down his pane. He’s always thought storms were beautiful, even if he spent most of them with his window closed, regretful on behalf of his undoubtedly soggy angel. 

Because even on those nights, Gabriel was near.

The window fogs up around his fingers where he presses his palm to the glass. Gabriel was always there. The stormy nights, the sleepless nights, the silent ones. His presence really almost was constant, slipping away only when Sam needed his privacy. But always coming back. Guarding him. His silent vigil. Never letting Sam feel truly lonely.

Like a ghost from his thoughts, Gabriel materializes behind him with a warm hand at his back, and Sam smiles. “Gabe,” he breathes, at creased hazel eyes. He happily makes room for him when he nudges under his arm and wraps him up silently, enfolds him in his arms and leans into his side, sharing his view.

“The bed seems terribly large without my Supernova in it.” He nuzzles into Sam’s side. Lightning fractures the sky in brilliant white heat. “Mmm… I always thought they were stunning from this angle. Thunderstorms.” Sam murmurs a silent agreement, and for a while they don’t say anything more. 

“Gabriel?” Sam asks, blinking at the rain.

“Hmm?”

“Why… Why _am_ I different?” He doesn’t… really know where this came from, but when he asks it it feels like it’s been on his mind since Gabriel mentioned it the first time. And… it could be his imagination, but it seems like Gabriel goes very still at the question. “You said I was different, built… _different_. What did you mean?”

There’s a some long seconds when the rain is the only sound. It’s probably less than a minute, really, but it feels so much longer when Gabriel finally exhales. “Honestly, I really don’t know, Star. You just… are.”

“But… how?” Sam blinks the after-images of gray skies and icy blue streaks from his eyes to focus on Gabriel.

“Well, for starters, ever since you were a little kid… Actually it was right after that fire when I scooped you up that I realized…. you could see me.” He’s quiet and thoughtful, speaking to the window.

A different kind of red and orange fills Sam’s vision. His fire truck… melting into black. That was the first time. When the smoke was burning his lungs and the man with the golden falcon wings cowed even the flames. 

_He had just one brief chance to feel a bunch of feathers against his palm, his face buried in the stranger's neck, before the feathers flexed, and there was a rush of wind, as strong as a gust but short as a burst and then gone._

“So--wait--no one else can see you?”

“Nope.”

“What about other guardian angels--can their wards see them?”

“No,” he answers. “Well…” His head tilts, his lashes beating. “Nah. I mean, there’ve been a couple of rumors over the millennia… And there was this one angel, but…”

“Rumors? What did they say?” At first, Gabriel doesn’t answer. He separates from Sam and takes a half step forward, pressing his palm to the cold glass like Sam did a few minutes ago. Fog steams around his fingerprints.

“They said that he had a special bond with his charge. That they could… feel each other’s emotions.” Sam’s heart jumps. Another angel and a human, sensing each other when they were near, feeling things, unspoken things, shared in the silence of the night with stars poking holes in the sky. 

“What happened?” he asks.

The window squeaks as Gabriel slides his hand from the glass, smudging his print. His fingers are trembling when he curls them inward.

“Well, Samboy, I dunno about you, but I’m cold.” His crooked smile doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes when he turns to look at him. He rubs up his arms. “How about one of those marvelous hot showers?” A saucy smile joins bouncing eyebrows, and Sam studies him like one of his patients. Small and nervous, shivering, and hiding some untold mystery. Except… he doesn’t think he’ll get an answer with poking or prodding… Anxiety flickers through those eyes, and Sam thinks, _No. Not right now. He needs me to give him this._

Letting his shoulders ease with a sigh, he nods. “A shower sounds great.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen briefly in surprise, but then he clears his throat. “Excellent,” and steps into Sam’s space. He traces his cheek with obvious intent and Sam readily bends so Gabriel can press a kiss to his lips, followed by another, just as soft. Sam’s pretty sure that was all he was going for, but like always, the fire between them sparks, and he presses into him more firmly this time, letting his saliva moisten his lips. The warmth inside Sam’s chest pushes goosebumps to his skin, and he hangs on as Gabriel kisses him one more time, this pained little whimper escaping him when he pulls away, like it’s as difficult to not keep kissing him as it is for Sam. His lips are shiny sleek when he whispers, “Come on,” and pulls him towards the shower.

They share the shower almost silently, the rush of the water only broken by Sam’s hoarse, _I don’t want to give you up,_ after a kiss, their foreheads pressed together. But they do communicate without words. Sam’s cock thickens, heavy between his legs as he watches the water drip down his boyfriend’s back… crest the curve of his ass. And yet it’s somehow him who ends up against the slippery wall, Gabriel’s fingers massaging soap into his shoulders and neck, mouthing up droplets from his jugular notch. Steam saturates the air and flushes Gabriel’s cheeks, and Sam pants, stunned by how fucking beautiful he is. Heavy, thick black pupils flicking up at him under lashes flecked with white, and that array of freckles Sam wants to kiss, one at a time. 

They don’t touch each other’s hardness, though they’re both plumped up and aching. Instead, they trade jaw kisses and threaded fingers, soapy back rubs and hairline scritches. They thumb at the bruises they’ve left on each other’s bodies and write LOVE into each other’s skin. The heat is still there, oh, is it there, but it simmers in his blood because… because ironically, there’s no rush…

When they get out, Sam only towels down perfunctorily before he lets his hands creep around Gabriel’s waist and he noses at Gabriel’s neck. He smells like… like he always does--clean air and musk and sweetness. “God I love the way you smell,” he gasps, his voice huskier than he expected it to be. With a groan, Gabriel drops his head to the side and Sam layers kisses up and down it.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Stretch” Gabriel sighs, shivering at Sam’s breath over his cooling skin.

“Mmm,” Sam nuzzles his ear. “Why don’t we stay home all day long… and you show me?”

Suddenly Gabriel twists in his arms and kisses him. It’s heated and intense, but still not the desperate need of the night before when they had to feel and fix each other. Gabriel’s lips close first around his top lip and then trace the sensitive inner flesh with his teeth, his thumb gliding over his cheek as he pushes into him. It’s strange how… when Gabriel kisses him like this, framing his face with his hands and bumping their noses together, the entire world disappears and it’s just them. Tasting, breathing, _being._

When they part, Gabriel tugs him with him, taking his hands and leading him like Sam wouldn’t follow him anywhere anyway. 

They barely make it through the doorway when he nudges him him up against the wall and crowds his space, hungry eyes devouring him. Their lips join and sparks shoot through Sam’s body, a moan slipping from his throat when their half-hard, steadily growing cocks bump together. Gabriel’s hands feel like they’re everywhere, tugging him down, and pressing him to the wall with a palm at his ribs. Teeth graze his chin, and he lets out a moan when Gabriel squeezes one globe of his ass. 

“I want to kiss every inch of your skin.” Lips trailing over the moisture on his shoulder, licking at the crease of his arm. “I want to worship ever mile of these legs.” His other hand fits right at the juncture where his ass meets his thigh. “I want to make love to you.” Sam winds his arms around his neck with trembling fingers.

“ _Gabriel._ ” Outside of the past two days, he’s never felt so much, and he can’t breathe. “I want that. Gabriel.”

“Up.” He doesn’t know how he understands - maybe it’s the way Gabriel squeezes his ass and tugs a leg around his torso, but Sam jumps and tightens his grip around Gabriel’s shoulders while at the same time Gabriel hefts him up like his giant 6’4” ass is nothing at all. Heat swoops in his stomach so violently, dizziness swarms through his skull. His vision blanks. 

“G-God, Gabriel,” he gasps, locking his ankles behind his back and blinking away the spots as he grasps at his shoulders.

“Not quite, but you just might be.” Gabriel winks, saucy and sexy, and Sam just falls a little bit more in love. 

He can feels Gabriel’s cock nudging the cleft of his ass, and jesus fuck, he wants it. But Gabriel’s mouth is trailing fire over his chest, finding a nipple and grazing it with his teeth, and Sam whimpers.

“Nobody’s ever… I’ve never felt like this with anybody before,” he stammers. Gasps. “And not just because you’re so fucking strong--you’re so hot. It’s just you, Gabriel, it’s… It’s you.”

“Hold tight,” he growls, and Sam jumps to obey, squeezing his thighs and holding on before Gabriel _lifts_ him from the support of the wall. Blood rushes south so fast he can’t see straight, he can’t think beyond _Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel_ , as he _carries_ him the few feet to the bed. Whimpering, he holds on as his cock swells impossibly fast until he’s hot and _throbbing_ when Gabriel kneels on the mattress and lets Sam down with barely a jostle, crawling up between his legs and finding his mouth. Teeth nip at his lips and then the wet slide of his tongue seeks entry, and with a _unh,_ Sam’s head tilts back and he lets him in, their bodies fitting together like two halves of the same soul. His cock is aching so desperately now after that display that he can’t help arching into Gabriel. His thrust is aimed just right because their cocks slide together, fire igniting in his veins, and Gabriel tugs at his hair with a moan. Oh, _god,_ that sound on Gabriel’s lips--Sam curls their tongues together--he will never ever get tired of making him sound like that.

“Gabriel,” he chants as he kisses down his cheek and then to his ear. He loops his legs over the jut of his ass and cants his hips, shuddering at the slide and the heat and _pressure._ “I love you,” he breathes. “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

For a second, everything stills and Gabriel pulls back to look at him. His hazel eyes swell up like saucers, the black wells of his pupils pulsating. “I… almost didn’t know if I wished that last night. Or dreamed it.”

Sam’s fingers snarl in his wet hair. “You didn’t dream it.” 

“Thank fuck.”

Gabriel’s mouth crashes into his, kissing him hard like he’s been holding himself back and he just _can’t_ anymore. He nips at his lips and slicks into his mouth until Sam is clutching at his shoulders and whimpering. He rolls into Sam, his hips coming down and their cocks dragging together, and pleasure _bursts_ behind his eyelids like fireworks. His mouth falls open to gasp. “ _Ungh_! G-Gabe.” The kiss is sloppy now because he can’t think, he can’t _breathe_. He matches his thrusts, rutting up into him and feeling his pleasure escalate.

He’s so beyond turned on right now, so keyed up, so on fire. With all the intense sex he had yesterday, he wouldn’t have thought it was possible to feel this good this fast, but Gabriel is finding all of his weak spots, even ones he didn’t know he had. He’s getting there so damn fast even as they move this sensually. “Don’t stop,” he hisses, raking his nails down Gabriel’s back. That feels so-- “- _so good_. Unngh, Gabe, keep going, keep going, keep going…”

They match each other, roll for roll, their pace slow and heavy and _sinful_. His cock throbs, hot on his stomach, aching so good he never wants this to end.

“I love you.” The whispered words tickle his ear, and he whines. He hitches his legs higher, digging his heels in. “ _Star_.”

“Gabriel.” He doesn’t want this to fucking _end,_ but he can’t stop--he _can’t_ stop. He wants to feel everything. He wants every inch of Gabriel pressing him into the mattress--he grips Gabriel’s shoulders and pulls him down on top of him. And he wants to feel the stretch of his cock sliding inside. He wants his lips--everywhere. “Angel. Angel,” his back bends, his pleasure s-so high. He’s right there-- _god_ , he just needs… just needs... 

“ _Sam,_ ” Gabriel moans, biting little flashes of pleasure down his neck. He leans to one side, but Sam’s so fucking gone he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he feels a hand wrap around their cocks. Grunting, Sam’s vision whites as fucks through the tunnel of his fist and _whines_. “Gonna come for me, Beautiful?” 

The whispery sound of Gabriel’s voice, strained with pleasure, is like a phantasmagoric memory. Sam’s eyes shoot open. Pleasure has blurred the edges of his vision, but Gabriel… Gabriel is startlingly clear.

“ _Nnngh._ ” Pleasure rocks Sam’s core. He’s gonna come, he’s gonna _come_ , any second. Gabriel, with his kiss-shiny lips and amber, shower-darkened hair, wisps fallen and forgotten on his forehead. “Oh-Oh _god_ \--Gabriel!” A flicker of white teeth show in a pleasure-strained smile.

“Does that feel good, Sam?”

“Y-Yes!”

“I can feel your heart beating. It’s so fast.” Gabriel’s hand twists on the upswing, and Sam gasps. “You’re gonna come for, aren’t you, you gorgeous creature?” He pecks Sam’s nose and brushes their lips together. He mouths across his jaw, leans down to his ear, and whispers, “Come for me.”

Sam’s eyes widen. He fucks through Gabriel’s fist one more time, and then his body seizes. A rush of pleasure gushes through him, and he throws back his head as he yells. Hot cum shoots sticky all over himself and Gabriel. “ _Ggggaaaahhhhh,_ ” he groans, his voice going deeper and guttural and-- _fuck_.

“ _Sam,_ fuck.” He can’t see, he can’t think, but he can hear the sound of Gabriel’s hand on his dick, and he suddenly surges forward with the need to bring this much pleasure to his angel. 

“ _No,_ ” Sam croaks, pleasure twitching through his limbs. “Not this time,” he stutters, his tongue feeling thick. He covers Gabriel’s hand with his own. “I get to make you come.”

The shivery, shuddery adrenaline rushing through him gives him the strength to push Gabriel over and climb on top of him. For a second, he wishes he was lubed up so he could sink his oversensitive, clenching ass right down on his cock, and he whimpers as another roll of pleasure twitches through his limbs. But he’s too damn impatient for that.

Instead, he kneels between his legs, takes his cock in hand, and wraps his lips around it. “ _NNngah, Sam!_ ” Gabriel’s hips come off the bed and push his cock a little deeper into Sam’s welcoming mouth. The instinct to gag arises because of his surprise--just briefly--but he smooths it away with a breath, carefully covers his teeth with his lips, and sinks down even further. And, _unngh,_ the feeling of Gabriel’s thickness nudging his throat is sinful and perfect. His hole clenches, empty and wanting, but… as much as he craves to feel the drag of him, this… This weight on his tongue, Gabriel’s hands tangling in his hair, his throat opening up to take him deeper… Now that he’s here, he wouldn’t trade this for anything.

“S-Sam, I won’t last--” Nails scrabble at his scalp, and Sam flicks his eyes up. “Ooh _fuck me. Oh,_ Star.” Sam’s lips stretch into a grin around Gabriel’s cock, and Gabriel falls back onto the pillow with a groan. 

Delicious musk fills his nose when he takes one more breath before letting Gabriel fill his throat. His two forefingers and thumb just fit around the base of him, and he twists where he can’t quite reach, squeezing his balls with his other hand. He swallows reflexively, feeling his throat squeeze around Gabriel’s cock, and grunting. His eyes fall shut at the pressure--Gabriel feels fucking huge--and pulls back to take in a breath.

“Sam, Sam, Sam…” Gabriel pants, one hand still locked in his hair. 

_I’m going to make you feel so good._ The throb of Sam’s hum around Gabriel’s cock has it twitching in his mouth. Sliding up, he seals his lips around the head and laps at his sensitive slit.

“Nnnngh--Saaam!”

He jacks his hand and twists his wrist, and Gabriel’s hips come off the bed, followed by a gush of cum in his mouth. His eyes squeeze shut as it fills his mouth, but he doesn’t pause before he seals his lips and sucks, tugging on his cock as Gabriel gasps and grips the sheets, golden head thrown to one side. 

With a moan, he falls back to the mattress, and Sam pulls off his cock, swallowing down the cum in his mouth and still jacking Gabriel’s cock through the last tremors of his orgasm. 

“Jesus f-fuck, Sam.” Gabriel hasn’t moved, his limbs boneless where he lays sprawled. 

“I owed you one,” Sam croaks. His voice is grittier than he anticipated. A low, pained sound of praise answers him, and Sam ducks his head, grinning. It’s actually been kind of a while since he’s done that… but he’s obviously still got it. Smiling, Sam kisses his ankle, the arch of his foot, and dips down like he so wanted to earlier to brushes his lips over the ruddy heel of his foot. Then he lets out a breath as his orgasmic tremors finally subside and his body is left feeling like cooling lava. More than anything, he wants to ooze into the mattress--and Gabriel--and… not move.

“Get up here.” Gabriel’s hand waves in the air, and a sound groans low and quiet in his throat with how much he wants to, but…

“Just give me two minutes to clean up, and then there’s nothing I’d love more.”

Gabriel props himself up lazily. “Or you could just crawl up here and I’ll lick your abs.”

Sam scrunches his face. “That might be hot during sex, but this cooling, sticky mess is just gross.”

Pursing his lips, Gabriel acquiesces. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But you stay right there. I’ll get you a washcloth.”

“No, Gabe, I’ll--” But he’s already scooting his naked ass to the edge of the bed and throwing Sam a lazy wink. Heart softening, Sam does as he’s told and sits right where he is while Gabriel gets up for the both of them.

His mind is a fuzzy state of _God, I feel amazing_ and _I need more time_ and _I love him so much what am I going to do,_ when Gabriel comes back. He watches the skin around his eyes smooth as he crawls up onto the bed with his washcloth and wipes up the cum on his stomach. His hands are steady and gentle when he moves to his over-sensitive cock and cleans it up from base to tip. His eyes are still downcast when Sam frames his face, wanting--no, needing--to feel him. Those crinkles he loves so much form when he meets him halfway to taste the other’s lips.

When they’re clean, the washcloth lands on the floor somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and Gabriel crawls up onto the bed and arranges himself for Sam to sleep on, bouncing his eyebrows when Sam twerks his lips. And… yeah, Sam gives in without a fight, he’s such a sucker when it comes to Gabriel. Crawling up, he settles into his favorite spot, wrapped in his arms and nudging his nose against Gabriel’s chin. This spot… this feels like home, and his body eases into perfect bonelessness. 

As fucking comfortable as he is, he doesn’t want to fall asleep. Not when… he might not get any more moments like this with Gabriel. He just wants five minutes of being almost as close to him as he can possibly get. Just five minutes feeling fingers trace patterns on his skin, watching the rise and fall of his stomach.

“I love you,” he says, feeling it all the way to his bones and back. 

Even though he can’t see it, he can tell Gabriel is smiling. He can feel it. “I kinda like you too.” 

“Mmm,” Sam hums, pushing his body that many millimeters closer. “God you’re comfortable.”

“Are you calling me soft, Snuggy Bear?” The lilting tone of his voice makes it clear he’s teasing. Even so.

“Only in the right places. Everywhere else you’re firm. And thick.” Gabriel’s stomach bounces with his low laugh, and Sam grins, letting his eyes drift closed.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he grumbles, his words slurring a bit. All he may have are hours. These collections of seconds with Gabriel. And they’re too precious. “I don’t want to miss any time…”

Fingers comb through his hair, and Sam thinks, _Five minutes. Just five minutes._

 

***

 

A hand on his shoulder and a voice he’d know anywhere. “Snuggy bear? Hey there, Gorgeous…” These are the things that draw him from his sleep. His lashes flutter as he blinks the spots from his eyes.

“Fuck,” he slurs, pushing himself up onto his elbows. It’s still dim in the room, the faint sound of trickling water indicating the rain hasn’t stopped yet. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed, but we might oughtta eat something first. Keep up our strength.” 

Sam almost misses the sassy wink thrown his way when he drags his hand down his face. “I fell asleep.”

“You did. You were very cute.”

“I told you not to let me sleep!” he grouses.

“You were exhausted,” Gabriel quips, smirking. Sam glares. “Relax,” he says, chuckling. “It was just an hour.”

“That’s an hour I won’t be getting back with y--” he cuts himself off. “If I don’t see you again--” he does it again, his throat feeling tight. He’s not conscious enough for this conversation.

“Hey, hey.” Gabriel squeezes his arm comfortingly, his eyes filled up with something Sam’s afraid to identify. “It’s barely eleven. We’ve got some time.”

Sam sits up cross-legged and rubs the grit from his eyes, taking that and letting the regret slip away. It’s done. He doesn’t want to waste more time wishing otherwise. “Okay. Okay…”

“Okay?” Nodding, Sam pushes his hand through his hair and pushes the feelings away with the same gesture. The fog on his mind is slowly lifting, leaving him feeling… actually well rested… and ready to face the rest of the day. But first he has to know something…

The questions he has about this other angel whisper on the edges of his thoughts, aching to be spoken, but they aren’t what he asks… this time. “When?”

“I beg your pardon?” Elbows pushed into the mattress raise Gabriel up, his collar bones dominant juts at the base of his throat. Dips and rises Sam has licked and kissed and nibbled are on full display, and Sam wishes he could ignore the question. Roll onto Gabriel and claim all those spots again. Lube himself up and sink down on his cock until they’re both breathless and neither of them can think about the future.

But he can’t.

“I said… ‘when?’ When do you have to decide? Will they come and take you away? … When will they come?”

“Oh…” Gabriel clears his throat, looking off into another corner of the room. “Yeah, they’ll, um… They’ll definitely take me to Heaven where I’ll then, you know, officially make that choice.” Sam’s heart clenches, but he waits for Gabriel to go on. “Ah, sunset…” he murmurs. “It should be, um--they’ll take me at sunset.”

“Sunset,” Sam says, his voice a little strangled. He thought he’d have more time than that--midnight, or maybe even tomorrow’s dawn. Sunset. A handful of hours… It’s not enough fucking time! “What’s that, at seven?” He’s surprised at the control he has over his own voice, but Gabriel still seems to pick up on something anyway, if the pain in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Seven fourteen,” he replies. “I, uh, looked it up.”

Sam nods, trying to fight the wave of despair in his chest. “Okay. Okay.” The sharp points of his incisors sink into his cheek, and he looks away, focusing on the physicality of it. _What are you going to say?_ He-He wants to ask it--it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he also... he doesn’t want to know the answer. Fuck. He shakes his head. “Um, okay. We should--uh--”

“Star,” Gabriel laces their fingers together. “I…” he swallows. “I still don’t know what’s… best. I can’t tell you… what I’m gonna say,” he loses his voice for a second and takes in a breath. “But we still have all damn day, and I don’t intend to miss a minute.” He gives Sam a pained smile, tight but real, gaze searching.

It’s not what Sam wants to hear, but it isn’t a confirmation of his worst fear either. “Okay. But, Gabriel, if I haven’t made it clear, I’ll tell you again… What’s best for me is _you._ I want you so much I can barely even stand it, barely comprehend it.” There are a thousand poetic words he could use, but Gabriel doesn’t need poetry, and Sam is feeling too much to be anything but totally blunt. “I love you. I _love_ you.” His breath is shuddery when he takes it in. “But if you decide... _not_ to fall for me, I-I find I can’t be as selfish as I thought I could. If you don’t fall… I will understand. It’s…. a big deal. It’s crazy, and as much as I want to beg you to stay… Gabe, I can’t. I just… I want--I _need_ \--you to be happy.” He literally can’t help the way his voice cracks, and he squeezes Gabriel’s hand, feeling stronger the moment he feels him squeeze back. “You know what I want. You have to--and… I mean this with my whole heart--you have to decide what you want. What-What’s best for _you._ ” When it’s over, Sam runs a shaky hand through his hair because that was the hardest fucking thing he’s ever done, damnit.

Gabriel’s lips form shapes, but no words quite come out. He looks… distraught and… something else. There’s a light in his eyes so deep and so warm it makes Sam want to reach out to him and hold his face while he stares into his eyes until he can’t take it anymore and catches his lips. He doesn’t though, he just watches breathlessly until Gabriel mutters his name and looks up to the ceiling. His eyes fall shut when he rubs the back of his neck, and when he finally looks at him again, his eyes are determined. Raw, still, but determined. “Okay. Okay, Sam.”

Breathing in through his nose, Sam nods his head. “Okay?”

Gabriel swipes over his knuckle. “Okay.” He swallows, and then a rumbling sound that Sam briefly mistakes for thunder comes from his stomach. “Uhm, and now… Since that’s outta the way… What do ya say to a sandwich?”

***

Sandwiches made and eaten, breadcrumbs and bits of crust left on their plates and set on the coffee table, Sam and Gabriel wind up curled together on the couch, the murmur of the rain and gush of wind a soft, sleepy drone behind the buzz of the television. Only the gray rainy light from slit curtains and the glare of the tv illuminates the room. But the dimness doesn’t bother Sam. He doesn’t need light to lie between Gabriel’s legs, his head resting on a shoulder. And the feeling of Gabriel’s arms wrapped around his middle or the way he noses at his hair and presses kisses to his cheek send just as much warmth spiraling through his body in the darkness. In fact, it’s even more intense to feel and smell and hear the whispered renditions of his name when one of his senses is muted.

The tv volume is low. Almost too quiet to make out Charlie or Linus’s words in this year’s early showing of _It’s the Great Pumpkin._ It’s okay, though, because though their eyes watch the cartoon figures moving on the screen, the tv is only on for an excuse. An excuse to stay in and hide from the rain. An excuse for Gabriel to hold Sam, and for Sam to be held, safe in his arms. 

Lucy pulls her football trick on Charlie, but Sam doesn’t really see more than a golden orange blur on the screen. No, his thoughts are far more close and present. Stuck on the way he fits with Gabriel on this couch. A heel in a cushion, a bent knee over a stretched leg. Soft pajama pants pressed together. Elbows bent to wrap around his waist, a perfectly placed shoulder to rest his head on. Whispered everythings trailing after hairline kisses. Gabriel’s voice captures his entire attention, and though Sam’s eyes, his eyes watch the colors dance across the screen, the whispered renderings of _Star, So good, So Smart, My Star,_ ghosting over his skin might as well be crashing thunder with the way it pierces Sam’s skin and vibrates all the way through his body.

He’s miserable. Oh god. 

His fingers twitch at Gabriel’s knuckles, the flow of air through his body carefully controlled.

He’s living his paradise right now, right here, and his throat is tightening and his lungs are trembling, and his body is noticing every press of heat, every nuzzle, everything. Cataloging, keeping, storing. Because he might not ever get this again.

“What happened, Gabe?”

“Lucy moved the football before Charlie could kick it.”

“No,” Sam snorts at the misunderstanding. He blinks his dry eyes and crooks his neck to look at him. He’s too close, but Gabriel still looks especially gorgeous in the soft light. “I meant… What happened with the other angel and his charge. …The ones who could feel each other like-like we could.”

“Oh,” Gabriel falters. He blinks his eyes past Sam, at the tv screen, his lips thinning into a line. He doesn’t look like he really wants to tell him, but he does it anyway. “He… fell.” The low hum of the television fades as Gabriel clears his throat and quirks his brows. “He fell to earth, I know that much. Became human. This was… A hundred years ago? Really early 1900’s.” The low lilt of his voice and haze of his eyes has Sam shifting a bit so he can rest his neck but still watch him speak. “There’s this kind of… silent sonic boom when an angel ditches heaven. S’only happened a couple of times, but I still remember it, like a power surge “Or--” he breaks off at the sound of thunder outside and gestures at the window. “Like thunder, but without sound. That pulse in the air, your hair stands on end, and… you just know. Every angel that was in heaven knew what had happened when Akobel fell. The reason he fell… Well, that’s where the rumors come in. Angels are the most gossipy old birds in existence. Rumors get spread around and misconstrued and blown up until ninety percent of it all is bullshit.”

Gossipy angels, wow. Sam tilts his chin. “So, do you know of anything they said… that was true?”

“Eh, you can never be totally sure with them winged taletellers, but… I knew Akobel a _little_ before he fell, mostly secondhand from a friend of mine. But he was one of the good ones, liked humans almost as much as me.” He winks in spite of the slight strain on his face. “And when you cut through the crap, there were some recurring themes to these rumors. What I told you… That he and his charge connected on a much deeper level than was normal. That he fell for her. And that--Well.”

“What?” Sam’s pulse has been unsteady pretty much all day, but it’s quiet and still hummingbird fast right now. In this position, it would be an awkward twist to put his palm to Gabriel’s cheek, so he knocks his nose to his chin instead. “What else?”

“You gotta take this stuff with a butt load of salt,” Gabriel warns. He looks almost… nervous?

“I get that. But I just… I need to know… everything.”

“Okay,” Gabriel sighs. “The word--uh-- _soulmates_ was thrown around, but heck, that doesn’t even make sense.” 

Sam’s stomach flips. Does he… _can he_ believe in such a possibility? The logical part of his brain has him scoffing. _This isn’t a fairytale_. And yet, something inside of him screams _yes! Right!!_ and he has to admit he’s always felt like he would never be all the way complete with anyone else. 

A long time ago he’d accepted the fact that there are unknowable things out there that may never fit into a black and white view of the world. Some of the colors he’s seen since he was a kid, but he knows without a doubt that there’re more out there, people and creatures and things that he’s never imagined… Is it really so hard to believe that soulmates might exist? …That Gabriel is his?

… No. He finds that… it isn’t.

“Why doesn’t it make sense?”

“Because,” Gabriel says, combing his fingers through his hair again and kicking out his heel. “Because there’s nothing--there’s no proof I’ve seen or been given in my entire lifetime that soulmates even exist.”

“No?” Challenges Sam softly. “What about Cleopatra and Mark Antony? Hadrian and Antinous? I’m sure there are countless other great loves that never even made the history books.”

“Okay, Hadrian was a bit obsessed with Antinous, but even if soulmates exist, _angels_ don’t have souls.”

Sam’s mouth falls open in shock. “You don’t have a soul?”

“Well… fully powered me definitely doesn’t. I have grace. Or _had_ grace. Right now… I’m mostly human, but still connected to my grace--the link isn’t completely severed… So no, no soul.”

Sam, sitting up more now and twisted in his seat, lays a palm on Gabriel’s chest, right over his sternum, a thousand questions sifting through his mind. Only one of them makes it to his lips. “What if you fell?”

“I--What?”

“If you fell, what would happen? Would you have a soul?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows go up, his head tilting to one side. “I… I’m not actually sure. I suppose I would become human, and I would… I would have a soul…” His gaze drops to some distant nothingness, lost in thought.

Sam lets him think as he turns on his side away from the tv he’s been ignoring, loosely looping his arms around Gabriel’s neck and dropping a leg over his. He’s very… very comfortable and actually in a great position to climb up on his knees, push their pajamas pants down and sink down on Gabriel’s cock. He even has lube in a little box under the couch…

It’s been a couple hours since Gabriel ground him into a leaking mess in the bedroom, and… he wants him again. He always wants him. His eyes skim along jawline. God, he wants to be close to him, closer than he is even now literally tangled together. He wants naked skin and teeth clacking and lips pressing too hard. He wants wicked heat making space for itself inside him with fingers in hair and tears in his eyes. He wants to burn, burn, burn, and a hundred more bruises. Bruises to keep, to press his fingers into days from now, to make him remember… even if it’s impossible to forget.

How many hours does he have left in the day? To have this… to have him.

He noses along that jaw and presses a kiss to his sandpaper, unshaven skin, thumbing over the angle of his mandible and wondering just what this chin would look like with a beard.

“I suppose it’s possible my grace sensed it and… opened that silent doorway between us without me realizing it.” 

Sam tugs at Gabriel’s jaw and kisses up his cheek. Honestly… Sam has no way of knowing if they’re soulmates--if soulmates exist. Honestly… in the end, what does it matter? “Maybe,” he mutters.

“Even without a soul, my grace let me see things, like-like _your_ soul.”

Because, either way, he loves Gabriel. Fate? Destiny? Sam’s never really put much stock in that crap. He makes his own choices.

“And your soul, Star, I always fucking loved. Like a purple nebulous bound in golden twine.” His lips part on a breath as Sam mouths over his chin.

And what he chooses, what he’ll _always_ choose, is Gabriel.

“And it always got brighter when I was close.” Gabriel turns his head and catches his mouth in a will-breaking kiss. Happily, Sam leans into him, dropping his knees into the cushion and climbing on top of Gabriel just like he’d imagined, their lips only ever breaking apart for a second before reconnecting from a different angle.

“Either way,” Sam gasps, feeling dark-eyed and messy already and wanting everything else Gabriel wants to give him. “I love you.”

Gabriel still looks a little bit troubled, but his lips quirk and he jerks his head. A little smirk forms on his lips. “Right back atcha, but maybe we shouldn’t do this in front of the kids.” Realizing what he means, Sam snorts and flips the channel to an action movie with cars chasing each other through the streets. 

He tosses the remote and drops his arms around Gabriel’s neck, rolling into him deep enough to feel his growing hardness. “Mm, perfect theme to ride you to.” Gabriel’s pupils visibly expand.

“Jesus Christ and his apostles, I hit the jackpot.”

Remembering everything he wants, Sam falls forward and nips at his ear a little harder than he normally would, pushing his ass down on Gabriel’s crotch and feeling him rapidly fill. His throat tight, his soul screaming, his body begging, Sam bites his lips until it hurts, until he thinks his voice won’t give it away, and then breathes in his ear, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

***

Almost the rest of the day is spent half clothed in boxer shorts or pajama pants, the many hickeys Sam had both placed and received littered across their chests. When Sam brings a sheet and a blanket and pillows from the bedroom they end up on (the carpeted part of) the floor, coffee table pushed aside so they can sprawl, flipping through channels until Sam sticks in _The Sorcerer’s Stone._ Probably less than half of their collective attention is paid to Harry learning he’s a wizard while they make popcorn on the stove and sit on pillows, (Sam’s tender ass on _two_ pillows) feeding it to each other as Gabriel says, “like saps” before he stuffs an overfull handful of it in Sam’s mouth, laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever done.

They trade salty kisses, sometimes as pecks, other times losing themselves in each other until they have to come up for air, fingers still twisted in hair. Sam talks about his work and how this is actually the longest he’s been off since he started, and he tells him just how he ended up with his first hamster, the grumpy little dwarf Maanen that he named after the dwarf star. And Gabriel… Gabriel tells him a little about his strange family, his many, many brothers and sisters and how most of them are douches with a complex but how just a few of them are good. Sam thinks that he’d miss them…

They spend every minute that they can together, gazes anxiously flicking to the clock on the wall, shocked every time another twenty minutes have passed. Sam has never been in such an equal state of heaven and hell, and it’s torture. Hot and cold and happy and terrified and satisfied and desperately longing for so much more. Like it always does when he doesn’t want it to, the day sifts through his fingers like so much sand. 

When the hands of the clock point to seven PM, they find themselves on the couch, side by side, both in their pajama pants now but still lacking shirts. Thighs push together, elbows weighted on knees. “Gabe.” Fuck, he’d tried so hard and his voice still wavered. “I meant what I said before.” Saying that brings back all the things he’s said these past few days…. And… all of it. He meant all of it.

“I know you meant it. You don’t have to repeat it, Sam.”

“That you have to choose for you.” Gabriel drags a hand down his face and then squeezes Sam’s knee.

“Star, look at me.” Those endlessly deep eyes scrutinize him in the lamplight, and like always, Sam is hypnotized. “I will always choose you.” His eyes look so fucking sincere, and it _hurts_. 

“Gabe. Gabriel, don’t say that if you aren’t--” he chokes, dragging in a breath. “--Aren’t coming back.”

“Everything I do, everything I ever did these last twenty-seven years… it’s all been for you. Even before I realized how very much you actually mean to me.” His hand is hot on Sam’s knee, burning, burning through the cotton. “Sam. Sam, please, we only have a couple minutes. Please show me your gorgeous eyes.” He gently tilts his chin up as Sam’s lashes flutter. “There they are.”

It takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep the tears from spilling over. “Angel.”

Gabriel places the softest kiss just under his right eye, another at the corner of eyebrow. “They’re coming. I can feel them. A few minutes, my Stargazer.” He stands, and Sam stands with him, watching him pull a discarded t-shirt from the floor over his head, a lock of hair falling askew. He doesn’t even seem to notice. His eyes meet Sam’s, and he doesn’t even have to say anything for Sam to go to him. It’s like going home. 

Their lips meet in a crash. In a second any control either of them might have disappears in a crush of need. Nails drag at unhealed scratches, thumbs press into bruises, and they kiss each other breathless. They kiss like it’s the last. They kiss each until Sam’s lips are sore and Gabriel tugs his hair, looking fucked and wretched and gorgeous. “I love you, Star. I love you so much.”

Sam’s heart leaps in his chest, and he grips Gabriel tight. “I love you,” Sam breathes, looking at the clock, seeing the hand twitch, the last seconds slip away. “Gabe,” he holds him tight. “I love y--”

What he was expecting, he isn’t sure… A man with wings to crash through the window maybe. A bright light maybe. But for Gabriel to disappear with nothing but the soft sound of beating feathers… For Sam to stumble, fingers gripping at nothing, as he’s left suddenly completely alone in his apartment… That wasn’t it.

The only sound to be heard in the proceedingly deafening silence is a choked off sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me


	12. Chapter 12

He’d made a terrible mistake. 

This shirt, this shirt he’s wearing, this shirt he scooped off the floor without looking and pulled over his head--it isn’t his. It’s Sam’s. Sam’s shirt, the shirt he himself tugged off Sam’s head and tossed onto the floor before fucking him on the couch. That shirt.

Crap.

Something official is going on with the Twenty--their snotty voices are droning about his crimes or whatever, but all he can think about is… Hell, it smells like him. Like… Like soft cotton sheets and vanilla spice. It smells like Sam, and it smells like--damnit, it smells like home.

A shiver races up the length of his wings, and he stiffens, making them stop. Darn, this is already the third time they’ve given away an emotion he didn’t mean to express. Three measly days and he’s already outta practice controlling these things. He glances over at the golden feathers as he extends one tip, groaning silently as they stretch. God, does that feel good. He might not’ve had them on earth, but they weren’t gone entirely. Not yet anyway… Not until-- _unless_ \--he decides to go back. As soon as he stepped foot in heaven they returned, appeared along with his grace filling him up, returned from whatever nether realm it had been sequestered in. But, hell, it feels like his wings have been cramped up that entire time. What he wouldn’t give for five minutes to _scratch_.

But he doesn’t--he can’t. He was taken straight to the Score in their high and mighty stone-white mini-thrones. No time to breathe, no time to fucking think, the taste of Sam still on his lips. They placed him here on this altar before them like a lamb for the slaughter. Fortunately every single one of them knows that he’s not even close to innocent.

Standing here still in his pajama pants with a purple hickey clawing its way up his collar in smug effrontery. And Sam’s shirt. Sam’s shirt that smells like spice and sex and _Sam._

_Focus._

“So we allowed you time on earth as little more than a human,” Michael, his eldest brother drones in his deep voice with a turn of his head and a smile that would have most angels’ wing tips trembling. “To see the existence you would be giving up for the fragile life you would have. We did this to give you a chance to see the error of your ways, turn the human over to another angel to protect, and return to the fold.” 

‘ _The human_ ’? Oh fuck no--

“Because despite your frequent transgressions, you are and have always been, an excellent guardian.” In spite of his apparent best efforts, Mikey’s lips curl at the flavor of that compliment on his tongue. “And because you are our brother,” he adds like an afterthought.

“Yeah, some brother you’ve been,” Gabriel scoffs. “Tossing me down to earth with a time limit and an ultimatum. And ‘the human,’ by the way? His name’s Sam. S-A-M. Real simple, Big Bro. Ya might wanna to remember it, ‘cause that kid’s going places.”

Whispers spread amongst the Twenty, but Michael’s face remains as solid and ashen white as the pearly throne his righteous ass sits on. “You don’t think it gracious to allow you not only opportunity to bid farewell to _the human_ you were so attached to, but to see for yourself the difference between flying through the heavens or living in the mud, fighting every day just to survive?”

“Geez Louise, is _that_ what you think?” Anger scorches Gabriel’s insides, his wings flapping wider. He barks a disbelieving laugh. “By Sam’s holy ass, If you think it’s a gift to be stripped of rank, locked away, and then given the decision to either never see my family again or never see the man who holds every inch of my heart and who feels like--fuck--” he punches his own chest, “--like the rest of me, then, well, you’re my big brother and I love you, Michael, but you’re seriously screwed in the head.”

The slight arch of Michael’s peerless snowy wings is the only sign that he’s at all ruffled by Gabriel’s words. His eyebrow arches leisurely. “Regardless of what you may think, your punishment is more than fair, decided and executed by the Score--”

“Oh yeah, because you’re always right, aren’t you, Michael. Like when you left your charge to die because saving her would have revealed yourself to other humans.” Oh, score one for Gabe, that one struck a nerve.

Michael’s wings flare, his knuckles whitening on his throne. “Sarah’s death saved dozens more--”

“And got you shifted into this bunch of pompous asshats, didn’t it, you power hungry weasel!” Michael shoots to his feet, wings arching and grace brightening his eyes.

“Enough!” Ishim’s slithering voice twines through the assembly, just loud enough to pierce Michael’s cloud of holy righteous fire and bring him back to the present. “You, Gabriel, are the only Guardian on the table today.”

“Yes,” Zachariah titters, “how about you leave your wounded pride to be licked later, Michael, and let your brother make his choice.”

The icy glare Michael throws at him has Zach’s wings cowering, but his attention soon returns to Gabriel. Only he isn’t so easily cowed. Gabriel bounces his eyebrows, wings rolling. “Yes,” Mikey agrees, sharp incisors flashing. “It’s time, little brother, for you to de--

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up a sec,” Gabriel interrupts. Fire flashes in Michael’s eyes, but he doesn’t give him a chance to respond. “I gotta question before we get to that.” He swipes his tongue along his lips, tasting Sam on them and feeling his heart race. “Are Sam and me… Are we soulmates?”

Where it was quiet before, the hush that falls over the Twenty is so silent a twitch of feathers would crack the air. _Holy shit_. When Michael’s deep voice breaks it with a laugh, Gabriel’s wings tug inward, tips brushing the cold floor. 

“Soulmates?” he says. “A human--and an _angel_? Oh, Gabriel…” he shakes his head, amused eyes over an affected pout. “Is this why you were so confused, little brother? Let me explain, angels don’t have soulmates. Angels don’t have _souls_. It is _not_ written that you should be together.”

Gabriel sways on his feet, taking in a breath to scatter the shadows in his chest and tucking his wings closer, resisting the urge to hide himself from the penetrating eyes of his brother. He knew this--of course he knew this. Angels don’t have souls, and he’s--he’s no good for Sam. For a second there he’d thought that maybe... but no. He blinks away from Michael, noting the sneers on most of the assemblies’ faces. Most… but not all. Hannah’s eyes are downcast, and Raphael--well he usually does look constipated, but his frown is deeper than usual. 

Gabriel grazes his sweaty palms on his pants, staring at his bare feet on this altar. _Cotton sheets and sweet vanilla._ A hint of Sam wisps under his nose, and Gabriel drags it in like an addict, closing his eyes for just a second to relish it. To give him strength. “If I fell I would.” His nails bite into his palms as he looks up at Michael’s face narrowing with confusion. “A soul. If I fell, I’d have my own soul, a soul to match Sam’s.” Uncomfortable silence pervades the space, and Gabriel goes on, “But you all realized that already, I’m sure.”

“It doesn’t make any difference--”

“Doesn’t it?” Restlessness is itching under the skin of the Score, and Gabriel looks around at them with pleasure.

“No,” Michael replies. “You have no soul now. You are an angel. Angels do not take partners.”

“But I did,” Gabriel tilts his head. “I took Sam. Might’ve only really known had him for three days, but I wanted him ever since he turned into an adult, and…” Murmurs fill the room, but it might as well be silent for the way Gabriel’s mind and heart are racing together. “And you know what? Sam took me, too.” _Fuck, he chose me._ Gabriel’s teeth dig into his plump, kiss-swollen lips, but the pain doesn’t even bother him. “He didn’t have to--he wanted to. We--We chose each other, when it would have been so much easier to let go. _We chose each other._ ” He shakes his head, blood rushing in his ears. “Maybe we are soulmates and maybe we’re not, but it doesn’t even matter, does it? When you decide who you want over and over and over again.”

“Enough,” Michael breathes. “Whatever connection you have with your human cannot trump the grace and glory of what you are! Now make your choice.”

“What I am?” Flashes of smiles and long lanky hair that tempts fingertips. Fox slanted eyes and a heart of freaking gold. Lips that smile and laugh and whisper things in his ear or form the shape of his name with a breath or a groan or a gasp. Fingers laced together and _What’s best for me is you._ Gabriel lifts his chin, suddenly more certain of a few things than he ever has been of anything. “What I am, Big Brother, is… in love. What I am? What I am is Sam’s. And if you had been listening, you would have realized.”

“Would have realized what?”

Gabriel grins. “I’ve already made my choice.”

 

***

 

There was one thing he hadn’t told Sam--and that was that he’d seen Akobel fall. He’d seen it… and he’d heard him scream. Scream and scream and scream, and all this time he’d thought… He thought it would be agony. 

But it doesn’t feel the way he thought it would. Hell, it isn’t even his grace leaving him that charges the air and leaves him breathless. All these years he thought Akobel was screaming in pain when he dropped. But that isn’t it at all. Because it doesn’t hurt--Okay, maybe a little? In a sort of, _fuck this feels so good it hurts_ kind of way. But mostly it just… _feels good_. More than good, amazing, like a hundred orgasms and chocolate and laughter and… It’s not his grace leaving him that makes the shockwave. It’s a soul… his soul… growing inside of him.

 

***

 

“Dean was right. You are winged dicks.” 

The storm had seemed to grow angrier with Gabriel’s… departure. Like raking claws the rain lashes his window, thunder prowling and growling like a physical beast to match the invisible one in Sam’s chest. Aside from his harsh whisper and the single sob he’d let out when his angel was taken from him, the rain has been the only sound in his apartment since sunset twenty minutes ago.

When Gabriel had gone, and he’d rubbed his face raw, lips still tingling and sore from the dozens of kisses they’d shared, he’d let the cold in. Felt it stab through his chest, a numbness that filled the empty spaces inside of him and surrounded his heart. Caged the beast so it could only prowl and growl. Like the thunder.

He’d found himself at the window. He didn’t remember crossing the space, but the curtain was pulled aside, the gray blur of a good storm highlighting all the colors of life hazing before his unblinking eyes. They’re getting sore--dry, tired, wanting to cry. But Sam watches the trickle of raindrops, the thrashing of rain. He doesn’t blink.

 

***

 

_One hour…_

His feet are getting sore, his shins, his lungs clenching, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t know if he can. He might break if he tries.

The shirt he’s wearing--it’s Gabriel’s. His angel, he must’ve picked up the wrong one before he went because the one that was left on the floor, it had wings, and it smelled of air and sweat and strawberry. A faint hint of his own shampoo. The shampoo he’d rubbed into Gabriel’s scalp to make him smell like him.

 _I wonder if he’s still wearing my clothes?_ Or did they take that away from him too.

 

***

 

_Two hours…_

Turns out he can move. Back and forth and back and forth. Arms crossed. Shivers of cold working up his legs and down his arms. Every third time he turns he glances at the living room. With the couch they curled up on, watching cartoons, and made love on, biting promises into each other’s skin. The doorway where Gabriel pushed him and told him he loved him always catches his eye. The blankets and pillows from this afternoon are still strewn across the floor. The near empty red bowl of popcorn pushed to one side.

And he bites off the scream that tries to claw up his throat.

_I will always choose you._

Gabriel’s words echo in his head, mocking him… comforting him.

Had he meant it?

 

***

 

_Five hours…_

**Sam:** Dean. Are you up?

Midnight has come and gone. But whatever Sam did or didn’t think about soulmates… He had been right. This isn’t a fairytale. Gabriel didn’t fly through his window or walk through his door at the stroke of twelve.

He sits on his too big bed with its soiled sheets, Gabriel’s presence all over it. For a brief moment when he’d first sat down and touched Gabriel’s rumpled impression, he’d almost expected to feel his warmth. But the bed was cold. Like the cage around his heart. Held up with little more than icy toothpicks. A bit more wear and tear, and it will break, and Sam… Well, Sam holds on to the toothpicks.

The rain died off a couple of hours ago, but even the hamsters have gone quiet now, leaving his home silent and dark, the stark white light of his phone hurting his tired eyes. He rubs them with thumb and forefinger.

Since Dean still hasn’t replied, he taps out of his messages and opens his pictures instead. His breathing goes funny when he sees his most recent pictures, only a handful of shots. The festival. Gabriel’s grin. The soft lights of the park. Kissing his cheek. 

Sam’s lips part to take in air because he suddenly doesn’t have enough. The last two, the last two he took this morning. And they’re shadowy, and he can’t really make them out as thumbnails. But he knows what they are, he remembers. Vulnerable, peaceful, delicious, perfect… wrapped up in his sheets on his bed, hand stretched out to where Sam had just been.

Fuck. 

_Fuck!_

He taps out of the app before pushing to his feet and bracing his weight on the bathroom counter. His breaths are slow, shuddery, and barely controlled, because he wants to fucking break something, throw something, punch someone until his knuckles bleed and he can’t--he can’t-- _he can’t anything anymore!_ Not without Gabe, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t know how anymore. Three days. And he doesn’t know how.

Cold laminate bites into his hands, but he doesn’t care. He slams his palms down on the hard edge. Again. Again, crying out and shutting his eyes against the blur. _Fuck Gabriel._ Fuck the angels who took him away. _Fuck the beast tearing open his chest._

A tendril of hope, faith, whispers, _Stop, he’ll come back._

And Sam wants to believe it. He wants it, he wants _him._ Fuck, he wants him. Darkness clouds his bleary vision when he covers his sore eyes, his aching lips, his tired face.

But why would he--how could he? An angel, give up everything… choose him.

_I will always choose you._

The person who looks back at him is… a ghost. Pale, small. Glazed eyes and mottling bruises. He presses at the ones on his collar bones. The little twinge of tender pain that lights up his skin soothes his breath somehow. So he presses in a little harder and closes his eyes until he can breathe again.

 

***

 

_Seven hours…_

**Dean:** Ya, sry just saw this. Im on shift but I get off in like an hour

 **Dean:** R u ok?

He’s about as far from okay as he can get, actually. But he’s not in any danger, so he doesn’t tell Dean that. 

**Sam:** Uh, no, not really. Can you come by after shift? Bring beer?

When his phone lights up with in his hands, he sighs and answers the call. “Dean.”

Dean’s voice is big-protective-brother deep when he says, “What’s wrong?” And while a big part of Sam wants to be exasperated, a bigger part just… just wants his big brother. Just the thought of Dean coming here and holding him until he doesn’t have any more tears, folding his blankets, changing his sheets, feeding him soup and being whatever the hell Sam needs have stitches that have been holding him together coming undone. 

He throws his eyes to the ceiling, running a hand through his hair. His voice cracks when he says, “I-I can’t explain over the phone. It’s too much.” Really, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get any words out at all, over the phone or otherwise.

“Has it got something to do with those dicks with wings?” Dean’s voice is grim and a little hushed, like someone else might be nearby. 

“Gabriel--” he hasn’t said his name out loud since--since-- “Gabriel wasn’t a dick. But… yeah.”

“’Wasn’t’? …Fuck, Sam.”

Another stitch comes undone, and Sam sucks in a breath of air. _He would be back by now if he was coming back… wouldn’t he?_ “Yeah. I… think he’s gone.”

“... Look, I’m’a get Benny to cover for me. Then I just gotta get some beer and I’ll be over in thirty, okay?”

“Dean, you don’t have to--”

“I’ll be over in thirty,” he reiterates

Sam doesn’t have the willpower to argue, and frankly… he’s a little relieved. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime, Sammy.”

When they hang up, the silence of Sam’s apartment seems all the deeper. Before now, before tonight, he’d never really felt _alone,_ besides last week, the worst week of his life. He glances around his home and then down at himself, sweaty, bruised, smelling of Gabriel… and supposes he should at least change his clothes before Dean gets there. 

He drops his pajama pants in the laundry basket. But standing in clean pajama pants, holding Gabriel’s shirt in his hands… he finds he can’t let it go. Not yet. He buries his nose in it before pulling it back over his head. 

He splashes water on his face before venturing to his window. The cold of the night exudes from it like an icy corona that chills his fingers when he taps around the frame. Not that it would be the first time he let the cold in for the sake of a better view. Still, it sinks into his bones and has him shivering in the span of a few seconds when he pushes it open and lets the cold in. Usually he would wrap himself up in sweater or a blanket, but this time he pulls over his chair and sits with nothing else and gazes up. It’s still somewhat cloudy from the downpour, but there are spaces between the gray, and stars in the spaces, glimmering. Sam blinks his tired eyes and watches them sparkle, unable to make out constellations, but content to see them, even so. They’ve always calmed him. Stars. … And the angel who watched them with him.

_I wonder if you’re up there somewhere._

If he was, if he really wasn’t coming back… he didn’t blame him. He just wished it didn’t hurt so goddamn much.

 

***

 

Time must slip away because it doesn’t feel like he’s been sitting there very long when Dean knocks at the door. Though his neck is a bit stiff when he straightens, so he supposes it’s about right. He shuts the window and blows a breath through his cheeks before going to the door. It’s weird that he’s nervous, but it’s choking his throat and squeezing his chest as he crosses to the door, anxious to just get Dean in here because he always knows how to make everything a little easier, and fuck, he needs everything to be a little easier right now.

“Dean,” the door swings open, but when he looks up, it’s not Dean standing there, and Sam’s heart jumps, his body freezing.

“While I _am_ ruggedly good looking, I’m a wee bit shorter than your big bro, and hopefully a lot more kissable.” The wink Gabriel throws him familiarly weakens his knees and Sam grips the door until his fingers go numb and his knuckles turn white and--

_He came back._

“So, like, look,” Gabriel says. Gabriel, gorgeous, damp, shivering Gabriel. _He’s still wearing my shirt. My shirt, his pants, he’s--he’s--_ “I’m not quite sure what time it is because… no watch, but, uh, I was kind of unconscious for a bit? In a field?” He gestures vaguely, tilts his head, and oh god Sam wants to kiss him. “And the assholes dropped me on the other side of town. So I’m pretty sure I-I’m late.” 

His gorgeous throat, marked with Sam’s love bites, bobs with his swallow, and Sam can barely tear his eyes away.

_He chose me. Me._

“I’m sorry.” His facade slips for a second, his lips turning down, the depths in his eyes deepening impossibly more. “But I chose you, Star, like I said I would. I will always choose you.” _I will always choose you._ “And--” he shuffles his feet and quirks his eyebrows and the cocky man he fucking loves is back. “And I really hope you meant what you said about us cohabitating ‘cause I’m about to freeze my disco stick and I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“ _Oh, god,_ Gabe!” The words are barely out of Gabriel’s mouth when Sam tugs him across his threshhold and somewhere in the middle their lips clash together. And god… This kiss, of all the explosive, monumental, desperate, heated kisses they’ve shared, this kiss… is different. The physicality of it--it’s-- _that_ he can describe. Kneading knuckles and scratching fingernails, clacking teeth and little moaning whimpers. Lips moving from hard and fast _can’t get enough of you,_ to aching, mouthing love into each other’s shivering lips, and back again.

But it’s more. It’s _more,_ and it leaves Sam’s heart swelling and more tears--tears he thought he was out of--building in the corners of his eyes. It’s home, in his arms. It’s the other half of him. It’s so much, he doesn’t even fucking know how he was breathing before.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” he gasps, “my angel.” _I didn’t know if you were coming back, I thought I lost you, I missed you, I love you._

“I know,” he whispers back, because he gets it like he always does, and it’s everything. He’s everything. Sam buries his nose in Gabriel’s neck and just… just holds onto him. They hold on to _each other_. For just a few seconds, a few seconds, because Sam was beginning to think he would never have this again. Smelling like rain and air and--and Sam can hardly breathe, but his scent still is the best damn thing in the world.

Fuck--”You’re back,” he croaks like an inarticulate idiot, but he just squeezes him tighter, unwilling to let him go.

“Hells yeah, I’m back, Star.”

“Are you--Is this real?” Sam pulls from his death grip just enough to press their foreheads together, like he did that first night outside of the diner, fingers wrapping around his face, feeling his warmth. “You’re really here? You’re human?” And so, so quietly, “You’re mine?”

Gabriel drags in a breath, his palm sliding over Sam’s opposite cheek. “I’m yours. I’m human. It’s done, Sam. I’m here… as long as you want me.” 

A sound cracks from Sam’s throat and he catches Gabriel’s lips, too hard--too hard, but fuck, he can’t hold back. Gabriel kisses him just as fucking deeply, though, and fuck, he doesn’t have to hold back. Because Gabriel is here in his living room--no, _their_ living room, and god, how good that sounds. Almost as good as Gabriel feels, oh, he feels so good.

“I thought I was cold, I shoulda known you’d somehow be colder, my Sam-sicle.” Sam chokes on a laugh as Gabriel rubs his hands up and down his back. “It’s freezing in here, did you even have on the heater?”

“I dunno--” the backs of Sam’s thighs hit the arm of the couch, and he sits, spreading his legs to let Gabriel in between them. “Probably.”

“’ _Probably_ ’?” Gabriel’s lips trail over Sam’s jaw. “Crap. However long I was gone for was far too long.” Wet, open-mouthed kisses lave over Sam’s chin. “Way, way too long.”

“Had the window open.” Sam pants, his body finally warming up.

“Ah,” grunts Gabriel, amused. “Of course you did, Stargazer.”

“Mm,” Sam hooks a finger in his shirt. “And you were definitely gone too long you asshole.” Their mouths comes back together, but the kisses shared between them are softer, aching, and they warm Sam from the inside out.

“How about…” Gabriel murmurs, lips so close they touch. “I promise…” he kisses his lips and then pulls back only to look at him with galaxies in his eyes. “I promise never to leave you again.”

Sam melts into Gabriel, happiness spreading through him like the warmth Gabriel already transferred to his body, and a crooked smile tugs on his lips. “I really like the sound of that.”


	13. Epilogue

“How’s your beautiful ass?” Gabriel’s hand sneaks over his pant-clad ass as he joins him at the kitchen counter, a cheeky smirk on his irresistible lips.

“Sore,” Sam grunts with a smile. “I haven’t had this much sex in a week since… Nope, never.” He scoops some yogurt into two cups and starts layering some cut up strawberries and bananas with it. 

“Just making up for lost time,” Gabriel sing-songs, taking two spoons and two napkins and setting them beside the cups while Sam works.

“Did you hear me complaining?”

“Not even once.”

“ _Oof,_ ” Sam gasps and glares even as Gabriel cackles and walks away, the smack of his hand on his sensitive behind sending tingles zinging straight up his spine and straightening his back. He flicks his tongue over his lips and pretends he doesn’t feel a curl of arousal in his gut. Okay, so… he might be turning into more of a bottom than he thought he was. At least when it comes to Gabriel. And he might have just a little bit of a pain kink. Two factors that Gabriel has not only figured out in the week he’s been on earth, but knows just how to use on him… the burn of his ass and the slight limp he can’t quite hide proof enough of that. But, Sam smiles as he slices up strawberries, he is definitely not complaining. They just might need to give his ass a break for a day or two. He’s pretty sure they’ll find… other things to do.

Gabriel reappears to help him put the fruit away and the dishes in the sink, and they sit at the counter to eat their afternoon snack since they missed lunch. And breakfast. He feels his lips spreading without conscious thought when he looks at Gabriel over his cup. Soft treasure eyes catch his look and smile back at him, and Sam heart just about explodes from how happy he is. There are about a thousand details to work out about his identity and papers, but… they’re just details. He has his angel (the bruise he sucked over his heart while they were rolling around in bed this morning his, uh, not so subtle claim). Without either of them having to say a word, their hands connect across the counter and they eat the rest of their snack one handed.

“Have you heard anything new from Frank?” Sam asks, licking a dollop of yogurt off his spoon only to feel his breath hitch when Gabriel’s pupils dilate. Frank was the guy Dean knew who could help Gabriel create an identity. They’d gone to see him on Friday after a day of rest and much needed closeness the day before that. He was an irascible old man living in a little trailer out in the middle of nowhere, but he seemed like he knew his stuff and Sam found that, for the most part, he trusted him. 

“Uh, no… Last time I got that demon device to work, it was the same as before--he’ll contact me when everything’s ready.”

Sam can’t help but chuckle at ‘demon device.’ “Gabe, baby… it’s just a phone.” Before seeing Frank in the afternoon, he’d taken Gabriel to the store, bought him a phone, and added him to his plan (it was Gabriel’s idea to go by Gabriel “Winchester” to Sam’s stuttering, flushing, dumbfounded surprise when the operative asked for a name. To pull the car behind the building, crawl into his lap, and rut them both into oblivion with barely enough time to get their cocks from their pants while biting his ear and nibbling his neck and whispering praises, was, however, Sam’s idea. He might, um, also, apparently be… a bit possessive.)

“No, it’s a cellular phone,” he pronounces syllabically. “In fact, it’s barely even that because it’s also a _smart_ fucking phone with all these little icons that I don’t get and three dots and a little triangle and these sliding windows that everyone is supposed to instinctively know how to use, and it’s a menace.”

Ok, fuck it, Sam laughs. Gabriel’s face gets grumpier, butSam just laughs harder. He can’t help it! Never did he imagine his angel might not be technologically inclined, and it’s the funniest, cutest thing, watching him scrutinize his phone with a little crease between his eyebrows and a frown on his perky lips. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be your tech support.”

Gabriel harrumphs, but he says so long as Sam wears this little shorts, he’s good with that, and with a laugh, they finish their fruit. “Well, Frank didn’t seem like he would be rushed, but he also implied it wouldn’t take him long. Hopefully we’ll hear from him this week.”

“Mm,” Gabriel murmurs. “Speaking of which, are you sure you want me to come tonight? Maybe wait until we’re a little more in the swing o’ things? I could keep the hamsters company--”

“Gabe, no. I really want you to come. And I already told mom I’m bringing someone but not to grill him too much this time.” Gabriel purses his lips. “We’re really casual, Sunday family dinner is just an excuse for us all to get together.”

“Yeah… I know. It’s not really that I’m worried about.” When he doesn’t elaborate more and runs a hand through his hair with a frown, Sam’s heart sinks a little.

“Hey,” he says gently, stroking over Gabriel’s knuckles. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to… I just really wanted my family to meet you. And…” He chuckles self-consciously. “I know I have to work tomorrow, but I just… I didn’t want to leave you… yet.”

“Well crap,” the chuffed look that morphs on his face is so endearing it has Sam’s stomach twisting in knots. “I am definitely fucking going now.”

Sam huffs. “… Are you sure?”

“Totally sure.”

“Okay then… In that case,” he says, glancing at the clock. “We should probably start getting ready.”

With a silent sound of agreement, they clean up their small mess and go to brush teeth, shave, and change. 

Sam’s at the dresser just smoothing out the deep blue sweater he pulled over his head when Gabriel hugs him from behind, the ridge of his chin a sharp point in his back. “I know this is kind of ass-holey of me, but I wish you didn’t have to work tomorrow. I want more days like this.”

Humming, Sam leans back a little in Gabriel’s arms. “That’s not even a little ass-holey.” 

Gabriel snorts. “New word.”

“Yup.”

“Should get it on a t-shirt.”

“Definitely.” They chuckle, and Sam rubs up Gabriel’s arm. “There will be more days like this, though. Every morning and every night, all day Sunday four times a month, and holidays and vacation and--” Gabriel spins him around and cuts him off with a kiss before he can go on. Warm, and tender he steps into his space, tangling fingers in his hair and coaxing his willing lips. Another hum rises happily up his throat, smiling into it when Gabriel places two final close-lipped kisses and retreats.

“I kinda like it when you talk about our future.”

Sam’s vision clears to tarnished gold irises and hair curled behind ears and a tender smile that’s more in the eyes than on the lips, and he thinks, _If I could just see_ this _every time I open my eyes._ “I kinda like _you_.”

“Mm, you’re not so bad yourself.”

With another quick kiss between them, they tug on their shoes and make it to the car. If they hurry, they should get there just in time. Hands stay clasped between them almost the whole the ride, but… Gabriel seems strangely quiet, looking out the window, varying degrees of pressure applied to his hand as they drive. When they get there, Sam pulls up on the curb out front, the garage already taken by his mom and dad, and the driveway by Dean’s proud impala.

Like he’s waking up, or coming out of some very deep thoughts, Gabriel blinks up and out the window at the comfortable family home and then back at Sam. “We’re here.” It isn’t really a question, but Sam nods anyway, watching with growing concern as Gabriel nibbles his lip nervously and then tries to hide it under his usual smile. “Alright, time to wow Mama and Papa Winchester.” His brows bounce but Sam’s discomfort deepens.

Before Gabriel can slip away, he tightens his grip and asks him, “Gabe, something’s up. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” An eyebrow goes high in bewilderment. “Nothing, Sambo, why d’ya ask?”

“How about because you’ve barely said a word since we got in the car, and you’ve gone from barely remembering to squeeze my fingers to death grip and back again.” With a small, hopefully reassuring smile, he brushes a fingertip over his wrist. “Is it meeting mom and dad? I know you haven’t been on earth that long, Gabe, but you’re great at talking to people, and I will carry most of the conversation--”

“It’s not that. Not… exactly,” Gabriel sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, if you wanna ditch this, it’s fine. I can call my mom, and we can just go home or do whatever you want.”

Gabriel’s eyes grow deep and warm and bright like a crackling fireplace, and whatever slight disappointment Sam feels is far overshadowed by the twist of happiness for putting that look on his face. “I didn’t think I could love you more, Gentle Giant… but no. This is important to you--and it’s important to me too. That’s just… That’s why I’m nervous. I’m not worried about talking to them, but more… impressions-wise. I mean, I don’t got a job--”

“You’re new to the area,” Sam winks. “ _And_ you’re going to see Tilda next week to see about setting up some private language lessons.”

“Ok, first off, you are way too supportive,” Gabriel gripes, resisting a fond smile.

“Mm I’m just the right amount. Like a new bra.”

With a snort and a laugh, Gabriel shakes his head. “You are pretty perfect, you gorgeous beast.” Grinning, they lean in for a quick kiss, lingering for a moment when the taste of each other has desire sparking through their veins. “Mm,” Gabriel hums, somewhat thoughtfully. “I just…” he blinks his eyes and makes Sam’s skin prickle with his unfair lashes. “These are your folks. It’s a big deal, and I… want them to like me.”

Sam has never felt so much like less of a solid human being than he does right now. He wonders if his skin weren’t holding him together if he’d melt right into Gabriel. He loves him so much. “Gabe. Oh, my Gabriel,” he takes his chin and brushes his cleanly shaven jaw. “They’re going to love you.” He smiles. “They are. You know why? Because you’re intelligent and funny and underneath all that ass-holery you’re the sweetest guy in the world.” Gabriel scoffs and rolls his eyes, but Sam just grips his jaw a little tighter and leans in a little closer. “And because I love you. Any blind man can see it--” Sam laughs. “Dean could hardly spend an hour with us because I couldn’t freaking keep my hands off you or concentrate on human language when he caught us making out after you came back.”

“Yeah, and then he tried to punch me.”

“Only because he didn’t know the whole story and thought you’d hurt me! But he warmed up to you when I calmed him down and told him the details.”

Gabriel sighs. “He did split his General Tso’s with me.” Dean had brought Chinese, along with the beer, but only expected it to be the two of them. There was still plenty for all three, but of course Gabriel wanted the sweetest possible dish and that just happened to be Dean’s.

“Trust me, Dean doesn’t share his General Tso’s lightly.”

Gabriel snorts. “I must’ve passed some test. But you did tell him… everything. Or at least everything minus the parts with bodily fluids,” he winks. “And we won’t have that advantage with your folks.”

“Well, not yet.” Sam frowns, wondering if that bothers his angel. “I think my mom would believe me--she always has--but my dad… I just think it’s best to introduce you as my new boyfriend for right now.”

“Which totally makes sense, and I’m cool with,” Gabriel reassures.

Sam nods. “Don’t worry. I haven’t been able to keep my hands or eyes off you for a week. I doubt I’ll be able to rein it in just because my mom and dad are around.”

“I mean,” Gabriel smirks, “we are a gorgeous couple. Is it any wonder we stare at each other all the damn time?”

Laughing, Sam shakes his head. “Not even a little bit.” Somehow they’ve come so close together their noses are almost touching, so… Sam presses in a little more. Until they do. Until they’re nuzzling into each other like cats and suddenly Sam gets why the furry felines do it. Joy burrows in his chest, and he if he could purr right now he would be.

Gabriel leaves a little kiss on his cheek and in a really, really low voice asks, “You really think they’ll like me?”

“I fucking know so. They’re gonna love you.” 

With a smile and a little nod, Gabriel’s gaze flicks down his face and back up again. “Okay. But kiss me for good luck.”

“You got it.” Their lips come together without hesitation, and even though it’s mostly PG, it’s Gabriel, so it doesn’t take long for Sam’s blood to start heating, which is a really bad idea right before family Sunday dinner. They aren’t _that_ that casual. For another few seconds, he indulges himself anyway, tracing the edge of his hairline with his fingertips before he forces himself back and slowly re-focuses his eyes.

“Okay,” Gabriel sighs.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he confirms.

They take just a minute to calm down, but after that, it isn’t long before they’re at the front door. Their hands join between them as Mary ushers them in, and then Dean is snarking right back at Gabriel. Dad is shaking his hand, and a sense of _right_ resounds through Sam. Yes, Sunday family dinner. Mom. And Dad. And Dean. 

And Gabriel. 

His family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you so much, Michelle. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did <3 Happy Birthday!!
> 
> Reader, if you made it this far, you are awesome and I love you too. If you could take a second to hit that kudos button or better yet, leave me a comment, I will love you even more ~ ^.^
> 
> I would really like to do some timestamps for these guys, but I don't currently have anything in the works. I have some ideas, though >.> So keep a lookout ;)
> 
> My twitter is [@MichiChar27](https://mobile.twitter.com/MichiChar27)


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